


Captain America: In the Line of Duty

by Legume_Shadow



Series: Captain America: In the Line of Duty (Series) [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Author Took Liberties on the Layout of the SSR (not AoS compliant), Equally Protective Peggy, Gen, Inspired by Captain America: Theater of War, Not Much Ass-Kicking but a lot of Sneaking Around, Period-Typical Attitudes Towards Everything, Protective Bucky, Questionable Morals Abound, Spycraft, Steve Takes a Back Seat, Superhero Thriller Spycraft (Hopefully), This is Technically a Bucky-centric and Peggy-centric Fic, War is hell, grey morality, so much spycraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-04 18:09:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 31,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17903027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Legume_Shadow/pseuds/Legume_Shadow
Summary: Cut off one head and two more will grow in its place. When a supposed suicide becomes a murder at the SSR Headquarters, it's up to Peggy Carter and Bucky Barnes to make sure that the code breakers, engineers, and most of all, Captain America, are protected.Note: Readers do not have to read any other story in the series to read this one.  This fic just enhances the series.





	1. Day One

**Author's Note:**

> First Publishing: Feb 2019, AO3  
> Disclaimer: All characters (except for the ones created by me) belong to their respective owners. No profit is being made from this work of fiction.
> 
> Theme Music: 'Out of Nothing' by Ninja Tracks

**Chapter 1: Day One**

 

“Hey, before I forget, nice job with the explosives, Jones,” Bucky said, slapping the black man on the back as the jeep they had all hitched a ride on screeched to a halt on the streets.

As the Howling Commandos climbed out of the jeep – naturally with Steve thanking the driver for the ride to an ordinary-looking building – ordinary civilians going about their business could not help but gape at them. It was not that they were used to seeing soldiers being dropped off or picked up by the military jeeps and other vehicles that traveled through this thoroughfare constantly, but that the Commandos in particular were absolutely filthy.

Caked mud of a variety of colors from red to brown and black, along with soot, ash, and even bits and brambles of hay were stuck on every single one of the soldiers. Most of the Allied soldiers the civilians usually saw going about their business in this quarter of the city were at least somewhat clean-looking, even when wearing their combat uniforms.

To what unit these particular group of soldiers belonged to was difficult for them to identify, if not for the fact that a circular shield sat in rear of the jeep. That object was as iconic as Captain America himself, and was in the midst of being lifted out of the back of the jeep, as the Commandos all jumped out.

It was only by that shield, being picked up by a tall man who was covered as equally in the same filth as his fellow soldiers, that the civilians living in this area identified them. They wondered what had happened to have all of them, including the brave and handsome Captain America, to have arrived here as so. None got to ask as the Commandos entered the building laughing and enjoying whatever success had happened on their mission.

It was only after they had passed those manning the front and the security of the place, and made their way below, that someone finally said something. “What in God's name happened?” Colonel Chester Philips demanded, as soon as the Commandos clambered down and into the secondary area of the underground bunker-base.

“Mission success,” Bucky heard Steve answer, seeing a rather cocky grin appear as Steve lifted his cowled helmet off of his head.

A rather large chunk of dried mud that had been stuck on it and over a portion of his shoulders of his uniform went with the helmet as well. It made the cowled helmet look more like an armet with an aventail. Bucky had to thank his sister Becca in his next letter to her, for her fascination of old European history, to be able to identify what it looked like.

Steve then gestured for Dernier to sling from his back the pack he carried. The Frenchman thunked the pack on top of the nearest table and began pulling out thickly folded sheets of paper. Steve said, “We also found some maps that should be useful, sir.”

He could see Philips considering his words for a moment before merely nodding and said, “We'll debrief after you and your team get cleaned up, Captain.”

“Yes, sir,” Steve said, saluting with just enough of a proper gesture to not just be a casual hand wave.

Bucky could not help but snort in laughter, though he managed to cover it with a hand over his mouth and by ducking his head. They made their way down the hall to where their regular uniforms had been stored, and where could clean themselves up. In the midst of walking, Bucky had dropped the hand, and let the open grin he had on his face show.

They had every right to be happy – the mission was a tremendous success. By the estimates that they had received before setting off on the mission, they had set HYDRA back for several months, if not at least a year. If getting covered in filth was the worst that they had received in retaliation, then he wasn't going to complain.

Stripping themselves of their weapons, gear, and filthy uniforms did not take long. However, per protocol, they had to carry their weapons and accessories back to the engineering laboratories – only after they had roughly cleaned them off the mud, brambles, and leafy accouterments they had decorated them with. It had been necessary to do so – to cover anything and everything that could reflect light – so that the ambush advantage was theirs. The engineers would then strip the weapons of the modifications made, and return the standard parts to 'the cage'.

'The cage' was the general storage area for all of the firearms that the SSR possessed. Most of the enlisted personnel had a rotational cleaning duty to clean the weapons stored there – ensuring readiness at any moment. The only weapon that never went into 'the cage' was Steve's shield. That stayed down in the engineering labs, due to Howard's request. At the moment though, Bucky saw Steve shut the shower off, with the circular shield rinsed of its mud layer.

Falsworth handed Steve a clean towel to dry it, and Bucky briefly glanced back down at his cherished and favored sniper rifle, grinning. He had named the rifle 'Vera', and had specifically told Howard and the other engineers not to correct the tiny divot at the end of the barrel. While the divot was technically out of regulations, no one, not even Colonel Philips himself, had said anything about it.

Freshly cleaned and feeling quite human again, the Commandos took the connecting underground tunnel from the building that served as the primary front of the SSR Headquarters to Howard's labs. Because of the incident in Brooklyn, for security purposes, a keypad lock combination – built by Howard no less – installed on both ends of the underground bridge, was needed to get out of the locker area and into the labs.

There was another direct way into Howard's labs, and that was used by almost everyone else. It was only because the Commandos had not wanted to wade through the entire SSR just to get to the main entrance to the labs while carrying their gear, that this specific underground tunnel had been built. It offered a more secure way for Howard's creations to not be seen by too many people. Bucky had initially found it slightly ridiculous that a covert intelligence agency had this many layers of secrets buried under secrets, but then fighting HYDRA in the field had changed his mind.

They dropped the modified weapons off on the far end of the labs, careful to not just haphazardly throw the weapons into a pile and let the engineers sort it out. As much as some of the other field teams had done that, Steve always openly praised and appreciated with Howard and his team did.

Bucky had no opinion on it, other than the fact that most of the modifications had given them slight advantages against HYDRA. Therefore, he made sure that at least DumDum, Dernier, Falsworth, Jones, and Morita return the weapons as they had found them – mostly. None of them could help it if a weapon was returned bent or broken.

Surprisingly though, Howard wasn't in the primary lab at the moment. Even stranger as Bucky placed his sniper rifle down across the rear of the long assembly table, there seemed to be a melancholic air hanging around the entire lab. Some of the engineers were still working on whatever they were doing at their stations, but there were at least two clusters of three engineers standing next to machinery, just talking.

“Thank you for returning the weapons, sirs,” the respectful, youthful voice said from their right.

Bucky glanced over to see a young engineer, most likely not quite yet twenty, emerge from the adjacent room that had contained the sample of the strange glowing blue weapons that HYDRA had. The room had been converted into something else after initial testing had shattered the protective glass in the testing area.

The engineer had a slightly unhealthy thinness about him that looked as if he could easily snap in half. The only reason why Bucky had noticed was not because the engineer had golden-brownish hair and grey eyes, but because of the way the young man was built, was similar to Steve – before the serum. The voluminous white lab coat that the young engineer wore hid most of him, but it was the pencil-thin, spindly fingers, along with a gauntness in the young man's cheeks, and thin neck that gave it away.

Bucky had worried over Steve constantly before the serum had transformed him – enough to know and see the subtle signs of someone not in good health, in another person. He found himself slightly concerned about the engineer, but knew that he had to push that concern aside. This young man was one of Howard's employees, and he knew just how well-treated Howard made sure that his engineers were. Howard most likely was already aware that this young man was not in good health, and could only assume that the young man had come into work today because of something or another.

“Yeah, no problem,” Steve answered, and a couple of the others echoed their thanks as well. “Is everything all right, here? I thought Howard's usually around during this time of day.”

“He's... away,” the engineer answered, looking a little uncertain, if not as shy – if not more – than he had seen Steve at his shiest. “If you have any concerns, please talk to Colonel Philips, sir.”

“All right,” Steve said, nodding. “If you see Howard, please let him know that the team did a great job. The modifications worked like a charm.”

“I will, sir. Thank you,” the engineer answered, brightening ever so slightly, though the melancholic air still hung around him.

Bucky wasn't the only one to notice the slight outward change in the young man's demeanor, as he grinned slightly. It seemed that personally hearing praise from Steve 'Captain America' Rogers, was enough to melt the stammering shyness of almost anyone.

Almost.

He knew that Steve was still incredibly shy around most of the women, acting mostly flustered and sometimes incoherent whenever they tried to talk to him. Some of their fellow soldiers or even the MPs expressing their admiration for Steve also contributed to Steve's shyness. However, Philips kicking Steve above ground to do so many public relations and briefings with the brass was quickly helping Steve overcome that shyness.

“Your name, Mister...?” Steve asked, extending a hand out, smiling.

“Um, David Brewster, sir,” the young man said, blinking in surprise before reaching out to shake Steve's hand.

The two let go after a few moments, as Steve said, “Well, it's good to meet you, Mr. Brewster. I'd rather stay down here, but there's a debriefing that we need to get to.”

“It was honor to meet all you, sirs,” Brewster stated, nodding in understanding. “I'll be sure to pass on your message to Mr. Stark.”

They left after that, and headed up to the main floor. Philips was already at the war table when they arrived, though he looked to be busily pouring over the maps. Lorraine was sitting next to him, taking a copious amount of notes. Peggy was not present, and that gave all of them some pause. She was normally a constant at the briefings and debriefs. For her to not be here was odd—

“Have a seat, Commandos,” Philips stated without looking up from the maps and reports they had snatched from the communications hub in their mission, while pointing to an area on the map for Lorraine to make a note of. “Agent Carter is currently dealing with other matters that need not concern any of you.”

It was blunt, but it got the point across, like so many other times Philips spoke. As abrasive as he was, Bucky had no real opinion on the SSR commander, other than the fact that Philips knew where to apply the right pressure on and off the field to get things moving. Whether it was logistics, personnel, or even information that none of them had prior knowledge to, Philips was an effective commander in all aspects of that. Of course, that did not mean that he or the Commandos got along with him – they some times didn't, and made their disagreements with the actions that Philips wanted to be taken, known.

Philips wrapped up whatever he was doing with the maps and reports, and the briefing started as one of the code breakers working in the main section of the SSR facility and not the pool today, came over. The young woman was nothing to write home about, with plain brown hair and brown eyes. Yet, for some odd reason, Bucky thought he saw the same kind of melancholic air around her that almost matched that of the young engineer, David Brewster.

In addition, there was a slight puffiness around her eyes. It was subtle enough that what little makeup she wore tried to conceal it, but Bucky had enough up close experience with helping his sisters put on their makeup that he could see it.

The briefing was short, mostly due to the fact that what they had accomplished in objectives, and what they had brought back was a lot for the SSR to digest and process. There was also nothing much to say about the state of HYDRA, especially for their weapons and soldiers, since it seemed that the Red Skull's advancement was effectively stymied by the SSR and 107th. What Bucky and the others had encountered in their mission was mostly the same in terms of tech, even if the tactics used by HYDRA seemed slightly desperate.

“Good job,” Philips stated, wrapping up the briefing. “Before you all run to the pub, some orders have come in, namely regarding you, Captain Rogers.”

“Sir?” Steve questioned, sitting up a little straighter than he already was sitting at.

“Pack your overnight bag, Captain. The OSS is requesting your presence for the next three days,” Philips stated. “I've granted it to them. Corporal Evans upstairs will bring you to their headquarters outside of the city.”

“Understood sir,” Steve stated with absolutely no inflection in his tone. Bucky could hear the trace of disappointment, as Steve was slightly disheartened that he would not have a chance to see Peggy until he returned from whatever the OSS wanted him for.

“And that means, the rest of you have leave until your commander returns,” Philips stated, as Bucky saw Lorraine handing over five slips of paper to her commander.

“I'll remain behind,” Bucky immediately volunteered, before the cheers of his fellow soldiers could get loud enough.

It was protocol for each team, including the seven of them, that one member of a field team remained behind at the SSR Headquarters as a relay, whenever the rest were on leave. Normally, that was usually the commander of the team, since fraternization between officers and non-coms were generally frowned upon in the Army. Bucky liked to think that because the Commandos were the most effective team of all the teams in the SSR, Philips never reprimanded either of them when it came to him and Steve completely disregarding the fraternization rule.

It was also for security purposes that the teams were not completely clustered in one area together, as HYDRA had begun putting out notices to ordinary citizens of the various towns and villages that they had occupied, with photographs of SSR strike teams. The most prominent one was Steve and the others of the Howling Commandos.

Despite going to various 'safe' towns and cities for leave, they all knew that HYDRA had spies everywhere and watched their movements as the SSR mapped and watched HYDRAs. Leaving a man behind did not completely diminish the threat that HYDRA would do something to those on leave, but it helped those on leave slip away easier, if the situation called for it. It also gave HYDRA somewhat of a less incentive to go after an incomplete team.

“Again, friend?” Falsworth asked, looking slightly concerned.

“Hey, I'm getting a hell of a lot more sleep without any of you around,” Bucky retorted, though he was grinning as he said it.

“Your loss, Barnes,” Jones said, sharing an excited grin with Dernier. “More women for me and Dernier, then.”

Bucky shook his head slightly in amusement, as it was clear the debrief was over. The young code-breaker and Lorraine had both left first, with Lorraine taking more than half of the maps and reports that had been sitting in front of her. Falsworth and the others stood up, he along with them, as they picked up and murmured their thanks to Philips for the signed leave passes.

It was only after Bucky noticed that Steve was not following them, that he paused and turned back, asking, “Steve? You coming?”

“In a moment, Bucky,” Steve answered, before returning his attention to Philips, still at the table. “Colonel Philips, a word please?”

“Yes?” Philips answered, pausing in collecting the rest of the maps and reports that Lorraine had not taken.

“A young engineer working downstairs, David Brewster, said that I should ask you about Howard. Is he all right?”

“Mr. Stark is fine, Captain,” Philips answered, pausing in his actions, and flicked his piercing eyes up, looking directly at Steve. If Bucky could feel unusually unsettled, he did, as it seemed that Philips's gaze was also directed at him. “He will not be returning until well after nightfall, and well after you're supposed to leave, Captain. Whatever you have to talk to him about, will have to wait until you're done with the OSS' request.”

“I understand sir,” Steve answered, “but is it anything that I could help with? I know some of the other commanders were asking him a lot of questions the last time—”

“One of his employees committed suicide early this morning, Rogers,” Philips interrupted, looking annoyed. “Because the engineer is a part of this organization, Agent Carter is helping coordinate the investigation with Scotland Yard. If you have anything you need to discuss with either of them, it will have to wait until you've returned.”

Philips paused for a moment before asking in a shorter tone, “Is there anything else, Captain?”

“What was the engineer's name? So that I can give Howard my condolences after I return?” Steve asked.

“Thomas Hattersfield,” Philips answered. “Anything else?”

“No, sir,” Steve answered crisply, giving Philips a salute. “Thank you for the information, sir.”

“Dismissed,” Philips stated.

Steve obeyed the order, but Bucky could see a slight puzzlement on his best friend's face. He didn't say a word though, and silently walked beside him back to the barracks portion of the base. Unlike most Army barracks, the officers were quartered with the NCOs by teams and functions. The only exception was that Colonel Philips had his own private quarters elsewhere on the base. Not only did it fostered a better camaraderie between the teams, it allowed all of them to swap stories, tips, and other things about fighting HYDRA, easier.

Steve had schooled his expression to more of a neutral look as they saw Jones and the others approaching from the other end, overnight satchels packed and ready to go on their three-day leave. Bucky grinned and slapped their hands as they passed by, giving Dernier a mild look as the Frenchman ribbed him slightly for remaining behind – again.

It was clear that Philips had given Steve – and him, since the man did not dismiss him at all – the information about Howard and what had happened, in confidence. Despite being an incredibly difficult commander to work with, Philips had not wanted to ruin the good mood of the other Commandos. For that, Bucky's respect for the officer went up a slight notch.

It was also clear that the fact that most, if not all of the SSR knew about the suicide, which explained the melancholic air in the area. It seemed that Howard's engineer was a popular man around, which surprised Bucky slightly. As far as the impression he had gotten from Howard's engineers was that they were more interested in gadgetry and creating various things to help the teams, than socializing. Howard was the only one whom he knew who openly socialized to the extent that _everyone_ knew how notorious Howard Stark was, when it came to womanizing.

Bucky paused at the entrance to the bunk room that the Commandos slept in, leaning against the door frame. His and Steve's bunk bed was the first within the room. Like their arrangement back when they had shared an apartment in Brooklyn, he had taken the lower bunk, while Steve took the top. At first, both of them had thought that perhaps they should have taken separate lower bunks, but it seemed that the bunks were built solidly enough that it was able to hold Steve's weight on the top.

“Hey, Buck?” Steve asked after a few moments of packing his neatly folded uniforms into an overnight satchel.

“Yeah?” he answered, watching him continue to pack.

“Can you see if Howard and Peggy are really okay?” Steve asked, finishing his packing. “I'm finding it a little hard to believe that Peggy is needed for coordination with Scotland Yard into the investigation of a suicide.”

“They are London's police force, Steve,” Bucky pointed out.

“Yeah, I know, but something doesn't feel right,” Steve said, taking up the sack in his left hand, as he stood back up and looked at him.

“Gut feeling?” he asked, frowning slightly. It was very rare that Steve had hunches – the idiot almost always ran into a fight on the fly, back when they had been growing up. Yet, strangely, every single time that happened, Steve's hunch turned out to be right.

“Yeah,” Steve answered.

“Don't worry, punk,” Bucky said, slinging his right arm across Steve's shoulders and thumping it with his open palm. “I'll make sure.”

“Thanks,” Steve said, returning the embrace before letting go and made his way back through the maze of the SSR's halls to get to the main entrance. “So what exactly are you going to do with the free time?”

“Hey, I was telling the truth back there, Steve,” Bucky said, as the climbed the stairs up and into the short hall that separated the secondary exit-entrance with the primary one. “I'm going to make sure I get some much-needed sleep. You all snore too loudly. It's a wonder that our enemies don't find us by sound.”

“I don't snore,” Steve stated, looking slightly offended as Bucky pushed the lone doorbell-like button on the right hall wall. The wall at the end of the short hall seemingly spread open enough to let both of them through and into the noise of the main floor.

Whatever either of them were going to say to each other, was cut off as they were enveloped in the seemingly chaotic noise that encompassed the first floor of the building that the SSR operated within. Fortunately, very few of those around this area paid attention to them, as they were used to seeing Allied personnel walking in and out of the area, and within the building's above-ground floors.

A fresh-faced, mousy-looking non-commissioned officer who wore a regular-issued Army uniform that had nothing except for a strange-looking insignia attached to his lapels, stepped up to both of them. “Corporal Evans of the OSS, sir,” the man stated, extending a hand out for Steve to shake. “I was told to expect only you.”

“It's all right, Corporal,” Steve said in a genial tone, briefly shaking the man's hand before letting go. “Bucky is only here to see me off.”

Bucky grinned in response to the shrewd look that the OSS non-com had given him, though there was no humor or kindness that reached his eyes. He had heard of the OSS in passing, mainly because of their incessant intrusion into trying to take over what the SSR was doing.

According to the rumors flying around the SSR, the OSS had tried to declare the SSR a subset of their command. Rumor also had it that Philips had raised hell in response to that declaration. Bucky didn't know what was the actual outcome, but it seemed that things had settled enough between the two organizations that Philips was willing to allow them to 'borrow' Steve for three days.

Evans said nothing else except to turn and lead Steve out to wherever the jeep was. Bucky followed, raising a slight eyebrow at Steve, who shrugged in response. Neither of them ever understood the OSS, other than there seemed to be a rivalry between the OSS and the SSR. Even in war, there always seemed to be some wounds that could not be healed between allies, no matter what. Bucky sympathized to an extent, what Steve was about to face in the next three days, but only to an extent.

The jeep was parked directly in front of the building's entrance, obstinately blocking a good portion of the sidewalk. Bucky's sympathy for Steve's plight with the OSS dropped even further. He had a feeling that Steve was not going to be able to relax at all at the OSS Headquarters, especially with Evans' confrontational greeting, the jeep, and the no-nonsense way the non-com climbed into the driver's side.

Bucky shook his head grinning in humor for real this time, and said, “Have fun, Steve.”

“You bet I will,” Steve answered, slightly grumpy and wholly sarcastic, as he climbed into the front seat.

As soon as the jeep drove off and disappeared around the corner, Bucky shrugged and headed back into the building. As nondescript as the building front was for the SSR, the ground floor and those above it were legitimate businesses – if one could call the telephone operators who took up the upper two floors, and a branch of the US Army's processing centers, businesses.

Soldiers, especially those aides to the brass, filtered in and out of the building. Sometimes, the injured who had been hurriedly evacuated from across the Channel, made a brief stop here for the nurses and doctors stationed here to try to save their life, before being sent up to the hospital. Other times, soldiers assisting evacuations from across the Channel stopped by to receive further orders to bring back to their commanders.

The Commandos were one such group whom the locals knew as soldiers who assisted in evacuations. At least that was the cover story that the SSR ensured that was maintained. Going after the Red Skull and HYDRA was the primary objective the SSR. Yet, with pockets of France and most of Europe still under German control, the Commandos' missions had been interspersed with helping civilians evacuate from the advance of Allied forces.

Bucky walked back into the ground floor, flashing a smile towards some of secretaries who had looked up from their stations to see who had entered the building. A few giggled, hiding their shy smiles behind hands or shyly ducked away. They knew him by sight, as they knew all of the other Commandos, though it was Falsworth and Dernier who knew the women up here the best. It was all in part due to the two's penchant for remaining on the upper floors of the building, rather than stay below.

One could say that the Englishman and Frenchman could've easily had many slips of the tongue when flirting with the secretaries. The SSR's function was beyond top secret, and all of those who worked above ground in the building, thought of them as simple Allied personnel.

Betty, the one working at the end of the row, nearest to the locked entrance, was the one who always buzzed them in. She was also the only one who knew that the SSR was a covert intelligence agency, but not whom they had been tasked to go after. Bucky had initially questioned that their true first line of defense was a woman with a Walther strapped underneath her workstation, but Steve had explained what had happened in Brooklyn.

It hadn't left him with much confidence until he had seen just how accurate of a shot Betty was with all sorts of firearms in the underground practice range. Bucky had taken back his words, and apologized to both Steve and to Betty for doubting the two. That day spent in the underground range had also shown him that more than a handful of the seemingly ordinary-looking personnel– including Steve's girl, Peggy Carter – were quite good with firearms.

That had been his first introduction into what the SSR truly was, in terms of covert intelligence, and he had to admit – he loved it. The visible MPs with their armbands provided the actual deterrent, but the blended agents walking about in their daily tasks provided an additional layer of secrecy and protection.

It was as fascinating as it was intriguing, though Bucky had found that his fellow Commandos did not hold the same positive opinions about such covertness as he did. Even Steve had said that he still wasn't quite comfortable with what the SSR engaged in, but knew that it was necessary. Steve had also said that he was willing to put aside any uncertainty, and work with them; though Bucky had been left to try to figure out if Peggy had anything to do with Steve's willingness to engage in this sort of thing.

Bucky never got or found an answer to that puzzlement yet, and thus was left alone to his opinions about the SSR, Peggy, and this whole covert intelligence apparatus.

“Not leaving with the boys, Sergeant?” Betty asked, her tone matronly with just enough of a hint of concern to remind him of his mother.

“Not this time, Betty,” he answered, smiling at her with fondness.

Bucky knew little to nothing about her, other than she lived at one of the all-women's boarding house, and occasionally sent letters to her mother who had been evacuated up north. She was one of the very few seemingly immune to his charms – even before he had seen her practice at the range. It made his respect and confidence in her ability to be the front-line of defense for the others in the underground base, increase. She was not going to be easily swayed from her duties, or led astray by a handsome face.

“Well, I'm sure Miss Lorraine would be very happy to see you around for the next few days,” Betty commented, smiling as if it were a conspiratorial thing between the two of them.

Bucky remained silent and inclined his head slightly towards her in acknowledgment. They both knew that Lorraine, Phillips' secretary, had had her eye on Steve ever since he had entered the SSR base. Bucky had heard through the rumor mill that Lorraine had made the first move on Steve, but then Peggy had interrupted the two.

His attempt to try to talk to Steve about that rumor had ended with Steve flushing completely red and stammering so much that he didn't even get an answer to his question. After that, there were no more talks about Lorraine, but Bucky had made a few unconfirmed observations of his own regarding Lorraine and Peggy – namely that the two did not like each other.

When Lorraine began flirting with the rest of the Commandos, that had also been when he had gotten a strange tip from Peggy. She had only told him in passing, and quite obliquely, to only flirt with Lorraine if he was ready for Colonel Philips to know every single detail of his life – including all of the embarrassing ones. At first, he had been utterly puzzled by Peggy's words, until Peggy had slipped him a sample file that Lorraine had put together on one of the MPs.

It need not be said – and certainly wasn't – that it seemed that Lorraine was a personal spy of sorts to Philips, in addition to being a competent secretary. Why the woman was seemingly taking excruciatingly detailed notes of every single SSR personnel's lives was beyond him, but what Lorraine did reminded him of life in Brooklyn.

Some of the girls he dated had brothers, and a few of those brothers had the heart to tell him about gangs, bullies, and the like – and knew about his and Steve's reputations for getting into fights with those bullies. Location, time, and where the bullies would be was passed on to him, to either avoid, or to go plan with Steve to ambush them. It wasn't exactly a neighborhood watch, but there was some good in collecting that type of information.

Thus, he had wondered if he could throw a wrench in whatever Philips was doing with the information, and had begun to lightly flirt with Lorraine. At first, it was just to annoy the commander of the SSR, but he had found it refreshingly fun to engage in a deceptive wordplay with Lorraine. Whether it was dumb beginner's luck, Lorraine wanting another avenue to get closer to Steve – which Bucky was going to make sure that never happened – or the fact that the woman could see right through him, it was still ongoing.

The light flirting that both of them engaged in, had been two months strong as of this morning. It seemed almost routine. A slight innuendo said in passing while she fetched tea, a response in equal from him, was all done in public. It was enough for the rest of the SSR to dismiss it as normal. It also seemed to stop Lorraine from collecting further detailed information from others – if Philips' glower at him, every single time he remained behind instead of going on leave, was anything to say.

At the present though, the procedure to enter the main entrance to the underground base was no different this time. Betty pressed a button stationed below the desk she was working at. An inaudible click over the din of the secretaries' pool indicated that the heavy doors had been unlocked. Thanks to recent installments by Stark Tech, military policemen did not have to stand by and yank the doors open, as they had done early in the formation days of the Commandos.

As he made his way down the hall and back towards the main entrance, he thought he heard a faint echo of something slamming against the brick walls of the secondary entrance. Normally, he would have dismissed it as nothing of interest, but the noise strangely evoked a memory of him hearing the same thing done to Steve. That memory had happened just before he had turned the corner of an alleyway to see two bullies ganging up on Steve.

Frowning slightly, he paused and listened carefully, but there was no other noise coming from down the hall to the secondary entrance. Deciding to test his theory, he took a few audible steps towards the main entrance and pulled the door open and closed it, mimicking entrance.

A few seconds later, he thought he heard the same noise again. This time, he carefully masked his footsteps as he slowly made his way back down to the adjacent hall. He didn't peek out into the hall, just in case there was someone down near the entrance, but he did lean against the wall, straining to hear anything else strange down that hall.

His hunch was proven correct as a few moments later, he heard a voice growl in a whisper, “Fail me next time, and it won't be just your secret outed. Others will suffer the same fate as your friend. You **will** do it, or else—”

The hiss of defiance was equally quiet, but no less challenging in answer. “Thomas may be dead—”

Bucky blinked in surprise; the voice answering the threat belonged to the young engineer whom they had met only a hour before. Before he could loudly step forward though, the person issuing the threat cut back in. This time, there was a more audible, but still faint, slam of a body against the brick wall.

“Can your dirty conscience take the weight of another death, you piece of filth?” the voice growled. “Because that sister of his will be next—”

“You leave Emily alone—”

“Then kill him. He returns in three days. You'll have plenty of time to figure something out—”

The entrance to the ground floor doors opening and closing, shook Bucky out of his eavesdropping. He quickly pushed himself off the wall and made it look like as if he were approaching the main entrance, as he glanced behind to see two MPs entering. They looked refreshed, and he could only assume that they were here to take over a shift from their fellows.

He wanted to tell the two about the threat that he had overheard, but the 'he' that the threat was against was not just aimed towards David Brewster – if that was Brewster's voice he had heard vehemently defending himself. That 'he' that was supposed to be killed in three days, sent an uneasy feeling crawling through his stomach, but he knew that he couldn't assume that the threat was against Steve. That 'he' could've referred to the rest of the Commandos as well, or other personnel on leave or missions.

It was just too vague of a threat for him to pinpoint. Even if he gave the MPs behind him what he had overheard, he wasn't sure that they really knew how to go about catching someone who was threatening someone else. All he could assume they would do, was to interview Brewster, and thereby let the actual culprit slip away to plan whatever demise later.

If there was one thing he had clearly retained from his hated father, it was what his father and the other Feds who worked with him did in similar situations: let the plan continue on until just before the point of no return. The only problem was that Bucky did not know _how_ the threat would manifest, only that the time was within three days.

As much as Bucky hated using what he had learned from his father's jobs as both a Fed and a former policeman working for Scotland Yard before the Barnes patriarch had upped his family to move to the States, Bucky knew he needed more information. His first stop was not to go back to the back halls winding around to the secondary entrance, but directly to the engineering labs.

Not only did he pick up on the fact that Thomas Hattersfield, who had apparently committed suicide early this morning, was one of Howard's engineers, but that Hattersfield had been a friend of Brewster. It seemed that Thomas Hattersfield also had a sister named Emily. While he was not always a betting man, Bucky had to place a firm bet that the young code-breaker who had helped Lorraine take notes in lieu of Peggy's absence, was most likely Emily.

It had been her puffy eyes that gave it away, though Bucky pushed aside the strangeness of making the poor girl work. In hindsight, it looked as if she clearly had not wanted to be at the SSR or working, and wanted to mourn her brother's death. His opinion of Philips, especially making the girl work – if she was Emily – dropped. Even his former bosses at the Brooklyn Naval Shipyards had not been that harsh whenever the secretaries told them of a death in the family.

Making his way through the knots of busy people, he slowed down to lightly flirt with one of the secretaries that passed by with a batch of folders in her hands, knowing that she enjoyed the attention. While he was doing that, he made sure that he had a good view of the main area where some of the the code-breakers were working. Emily was still sitting at her station, hunched slightly over and concentrating on whatever she was doing. There seemed to be nothing out of the ordinary in this section of the base.

It wasn't enough time for him to gauge whether or not she knew of the threat against her life, but Bucky had something more important to attend to. He wrapped up his light flirting with the secretary – Katie – with an affectionate but faint brush of his fingers against her chin. Katie giggled and made a hurried excuse to be on her way, wanting to savor the moment alone. Bucky, flashed her a disarming smile before continuing on, and made his way to the engineering section of the headquarters.

Descending down the stairs, he saw that the knots of engineers were less, as they were busy disassembling the weapons that the Commandos had brought back. The engineers were also performing analysis of the modifications – at least that's what it looked like to Bucky as his coming down the stairs to the main laboratory proper caused a couple of them to look up owlishly at him.

“May I help you, Sergeant Barnes?” one of the engineers, a rather heavyset man with balding black hair, came over, as soon as Bucky stepped off the final step.

“Just wondering where Mr. Brewster was,” Bucky said, even though he had identified the young engineer among the others in the lab, standing in the far corner of the area.

“Over there, sir,” the engineer said, stepped to the side and pointed to the same area.

“Thanks,” he answered, and made his way over.

As he approached, he carefully searched out for any signs of the young man carrying bruises from being slammed into a brick wall at least twice. There was nothing on Brewster's lab coat to suggest that brick dust or even grime from the dirtiness of that area was on the coat. Nor was there any indication that the young engineer was showing visible signs of hurt.

Bucky turned his attention to what Brewster was inspecting: a low powered, high yield electromagnetic pulse mine. That mine had been a prototype that Steve had carried with him and used to great effect in their mission. It had clearly given them an enormous advantage over those HYDRA forces they had encountered, enabling them to bring back a treasure trove of information.

“It worked,” he spoke up, stopping an arm's length away from the young engineer.

It was clear that Brewster had been so lost in his own thoughts that he hadn't heard him clearly and loudly approach. Bucky had not even hidden his footsteps on the floor of the engineering lab. The young man jumped slightly with his words, before whipping around, looking like a startled rabbit. Brewster had also been so surprised that he dropped the mine.

Fortunately, Bucky's reflexes were still fast enough that he lunged forward and caught the mine before it could hit the ground. “Ah, better not drop it right now,” he said, standing back up, but did not immediately hand it back. “I think it might still have some residual charge – enough to at least temporarily take out the lights here.”

“Um,” the young man stammered as Bucky then returned the mine to him.

“It worked,” he repeated. “Captain Rogers was originally going to set the timer to go off in thirty seconds, but then HYDRA decided to rear their ugly heads faster than we anticipated. He set the mine off right then and there, and it worked.”

“G-good,” Brewster said, as Bucky caught him not stammering again, but looking... embarrassed?

Bucky wasn't sure if it was truly embarrassment, but whatever it was, it sent an unusual chill down his spine. There was a reason why Brewster was fiddling with the EMP mine, and Bucky's gut feeling told him that it most likely had something to do with the threat against the young engineer. “You created it, didn't you?” he ventured, keeping his tone friendly.

To his surprise, Brewster silently nodded looking slightly uncertain, but then immediately followed up with a quiet, “Thomas and I, we both created it. He... he came up with the design, specifications, and wiring. I just physically built it to whatever he said to do.”

“Thomas?” he gently asked.

“Thomas Hattersfield,” the young man quietly answered.

“I heard from Colonel Philips that he was a close friend of yours,” Bucky lied. He paused for a moment, before saying in sincere tone, “On behalf of Captain Rogers and the Howling Commandos, I want to tell you that we're sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you, sir,” Brewster said, nodding as he turned slightly to place the mine back down on the table.

Sensing that he could not get any further information from the young engineer, Bucky turned away, deciding to head back up. Before he could take more than a step away, Brewster's quiet, “Sergeant Barnes?”

He turned slightly back, saying, “Yes?”

“One of Thomas' specifications for the mine had indicated an incorrect pulse and frequency waveforms. I didn't want to go against what he said and recommended, but I knew that if neither of those were corrected, the mine wouldn't have worked the way it was supposed to have worked. So I corrected it without telling him.”

Bucky was silent for a few long moments, as it was clear that the young man was trying to tell him something about the mine. It wasn't that he didn't understand what Brewster was describing – he really didn't – but it was also clear that a burst of courage had seemed to overtaken the young engineer for the moment. Bucky truly wanted to confront the engineer with what he had overheard, but at this juncture, it was much too dangerous to do so.

He did not know who exactly was threatening Brewster, Emily Hattersfield, and by extension the 'he' threat. His gut was telling him that the 'he' threat was pointing to Steve being threatened, but Bucky knew that he had to put aside his presumptions. The entire world, including his own, did not revolve around Steve Rogers.

“I'm sure Thomas would have appreciated the correction, and I wish that we could have told him that it worked,” he said instead. “Thank you, Mr. Brewster, for doing that.”

The flash of guilt that he expected to appear on the young man's face was not present. Instead, relief seemed to flood him, as Bucky saw tears appear in Brewster's eyes. Those tears did not fall, but the young man was nodding to the words. Any other actions other than walking away would be suspicious at this point – at least that was what Bucky thought so – and so he gave one last nod towards Brewster, and returned upstairs.

* * *

_Later in the day..._

 

Linens were always the one thing that mattered, whenever cleaning guns. Of course, the oil that went into the cleaning also mattered, but it was mostly linens. Dirty linens should not have been used, but in the field, you took what you could get. Here though, in the SSR, there were some fresh linens around, as Bucky closed the locked up 'the cage', mentally cursing whomever had been the last in the cage.

The rotation schedule was not even set correctly – the man on the schedule had been off on a mission with his team for the past week. The last person to have used 'the cage' had not even had the decency to clean up after himself, much less replace the formerly clean pile of linens. Thus now, after spending more time than he cared making sure 'the cage' was properly cleaned and restocked with the necessary accouterments, the only thing left was to go get fresh linens.

Carrying a sack of dirty linens around wasn't the most dignified of jobs, but as an NCO, and a ranking one of the 107th, it was his job to make sure that all the little things that the officers may not have picked up, were picked up. Fortunately, he only had to carry the sack as far as the dumbwaiter elevator that was marked [Laundry]. If there was one convenience of the SSR, it was that all of them did not have personally carry their dirty clothes to the nearest laundromat – they sent a service to do that for them.

Locking the contraption up and pressing the button for the elevator to automatically bring the sack up to the ground floor, he then headed down another hall towards the logistics portion of the base. “Hey, el-tee,” he casually greeted the Lieutenant working at the duty station.

“Sarge,” the logistics officer answered, grinning. “What can I do for you today? No bourbon though. We're fresh out for the past two weeks.”

“Just need some linens for 'the cage',” he answered.

“McHenry came by two days ago and picked up a few,” the officer stated, frowning slightly. “There should be more than enough in 'the cage'.”

“I just carried a sack of whatever was left to laundry, el-tee,” Bucky stated, his frown matching that of the officer's. “There's absolutely no clean ones in there. McHenry isn't even on the rotation until next Thursday.”

“Ah shit,” the officer said, shaking his head, looking frustrated and annoyed. “Shit... shit... okay. I'm going to let you in this one time, Sarge, because I trust that you're not going to go nicking other stuff. Get the linens you need, and let me know how many you're taking, okay? I gotta stay here and figure where McHenry might've taken the linens to, and what to tell Captain Farrow.”

“All right,” he answered, nodding as the officer disappeared from the window of the duty station and came around to unlock the door to the space where most of the everyday supplies that kept the SSR running, were kept. As soon as the door opened, Bucky stepped through, pausing a little past the threshold, and nodded at the officer in thanks.

Bucky received a nod in return and continued down the corridor. He passed several shelves of various enormous tins for the cooks, along with the more mundane things like paper, pen, and powered ink for the typing machines. It was near the middle of the enormous storage area that he began to walk among the linens – clothes, sheets, uniforms, a couple of bolts of precious silk to make parachutes, thread – everything. Most of the linens had markers or ties on them labeling their destination, which meant that they were being stored in here as a temporary holding point for a couple of days.

A long row of towels, sheets, and bed covers of various sizes caught his eye. At the end of the row, leaning against the brick wall, were two enormous sacks of scrap cloth. Approaching it and crouching slightly in front of the sacks, he stopped short of reaching into them as he saw movement out of the corner of his left eye.

Glancing in that direction, he could barely make out a young woman who looked to have brown hair, through the slats of various items lined upon the shelves of this area. She didn't look to be pinned against the end of the shelf corridor that she was in, but rather was leaning slightly forward, and talking to some one dressed in a white lab coat—

“Em, he's threatened to kill you as well—” Brewster pleaded whisper was barely heard by Bucky from where he was, still half-crouched.

As much as Bucky wanted to move, he didn't and stayed as still as possible, as he heard the young woman – most likely Emily – answer in an equally hushed whisper, “It doesn't matter David! We need to let Carter, someone, _anyone_ know—”

“We do that, and we're both as good as dead—”

“You don't know that—” Hattersfield pleaded.

“Please, Em, you need to run. You need to get out of here. I...I can't lose you as well—”

“No, David,” she firmly answered. “My brother and I – we made a promise to protect you—”

“Miss Hattersfield? Are you still in here?”

Peggy's voice from the entrance to the logistics storage area carried quite far in – enough that it caused the two young people to immediately fall silent. Bucky wondered when Peggy had returned, as he had not seen her in the main section when he had been there. However, knowing Brewster and Hattersfield were going to most likely walk past where he was in a matter of minutes, he decided against being picky and choosy and took a handful of scrap cloth from one of the sacks.

Emerging out into the main corridor, he made his way back down, giving Peggy a casual wave of his hand, acting as if he had not heard anything. Fortunately, the logistics officer was standing at the entrance as well, and immediately set to work to take inventory of what he had retrieved. He was quickly processed, and without a glance back at Peggy, or towards the footsteps approaching her, Bucky left.

He returned to 'the cage' and set the cloths down on the table, just as he saw Peggy and Emily Hattersfield emerge from the same hall he had emerged from a few minutes ago. Taking a seat, he began to disassemble the first gun.

The single glance at Hattersfield was all that he needed to confirm that the young woman was indeed, the same one who had taken Peggy's place at the briefing this morning. As he listened to the idle conversations, along with the more interesting ones that floated in the air around, he took the first cloth from the pile and methodically began to clean the first gun.

Occasionally, he glanced up from his work, seeing Peggy gather information from the code-breakers working on the main floor's bullpen, including Hattersfield. There was nothing to suggest that any of the other personnel who walked around, worked in the area, or were just catching a quick break, were aware of whatever it was that was going on. Gossip or even the updates they were providing each other only alluded to the melancholy, with occasional whispers about the possible cause of Thomas Hattersfield's suicide.

“What do you know of Thomas and Emily Hattersfield, Sergeant Barnes?”

He didn't even glance over towards the voice who had stated that, as he continued to clean the sidearm he was currently working on. Trust Peggy to find a way to seek him out after what had happened earlier – she was much better at this cloak and dagger thing than he was. She had also most likely read something within him as he had passed her, that he had given away through visual cues.

“Nothing until this morning. The young man seemed like a well-respected engineer on Howard's team, possibly popular with the code-breakers and secretaries, given how much speculation is flying around as to why he committed suicide. His sister is also as competent as you are during briefings,” he answered. “They both apparently made a promise to keep their friend, David Brewster, protected though.”

“And Mr. Brewster?” Peggy questioned, as he saw her rifle through the top box of a stack of filing boxes directly next to 'the cage', seemingly looking for something.

“Smart. Seems to admire Steve a lot. Apparently he and Thomas created the EMP mine that Steve used, but he had to change something on it to make it work the way it worked. He said that he went against the recommendation of his friend to do so,” he answered, frowning slightly as he put aside the cleaned sidearm and picked up another one.

“And?”

Bucky did not immediately answer as he glanced up to see a couple of MPs walking by. For a few moments, the volume of the main floor seemed to get louder, even though there were no frenzied activities accompanying it. Just as he was about to speak, he saw Brewster emerge from the logistics area's hall, carrying a tray with bits and pieces in it. He watched the young engineer turn and walk through and back down to another set of halls that would bring him back to the labs.

Returning to his cleaning duties, he said, “Someone's threatening him.”

“And that someone has already killed his friend for not succeeding the first time,” Peggy stated in a quiet, almost inaudible tone. “The intent of 'suicide' note left behind alluded to something catastrophic happening in the field that none of us here could have stopped. Howard doesn't know about my theory about the note, and I dare not tell him. However, it seems that Steve was supposed to have died when that EMP went off.”

Bucky felt a shard of ice stab through him for one quick moment, before forcing himself to continue to clean the gun.

“What's the plan?” he asked after a few moments, setting the sidearm down, trying to keep his composure as calm as possible.

He hated it when his gut was right about there being a threat against Steve. As much as he wanted to rush out of 'the cage' and down to the labs to confront Brewster and demand the blackmailer's name, he forced himself to remain here. With Peggy now involved, aware of what he knew, and knowing a lot more than he did, she had a better grasp of the situation.

Bucky gathered up the reassembled weapons he had cleaned thus far and set the dirty materials to the side. He stood up, and took a couple of steps away from Peggy, hanging up and placing the weapons back into their appropriate areas within 'the cage'.

“I know she isn't your type, but escort Emily home, Sergeant. I want to see where this goes,” Peggy stated, with him faintly hearing her, as she kept the low tone and near-whisper that she had been using, the same. “Her shift ends at 19:00.”

“Double shifts today, Carter?” he asked, pausing for a moment in his walk back to the area where the weapons were hung.

Bucky knew that the code breakers usually did not pull double shifts unless there was a major operation coming up. After what they had done, he would have thought that the Commandos would have at least earned a few simple outpost runs.

However, he was not adverse to hitting HYDRA incredibly hard again – the faster they took down Schmidt and his forces, the better chance of survival their own Allied forces would have against the Nazis. He had heard the reports; the Nazis were already tough sons of bitches, and they did not need to be reinforced by HYDRA at all.

Silence answered his question as he finally glanced up towards the corner where Peggy had situated herself, most likely pretending she was looking for a file or something in the reams of archives they kept. He never understood why data and past mission reports, briefings, and data were kept next to 'the cage', but it wasn't his place to question the operational layout of the SSR.

Peggy was not standing there anymore.

Bucky looked around and caught a glimpse of her at the far end of the main area, stopped next to one of the code-breakers working in the bullpen. She nodded to what the code-breaker was saying, before continuing on. He knew that Peggy herself occasionally worked in both the primary code-breaker pool – located in the west end of headquarters – and the main floor's bullpen. Yet, with her other duties as an intelligence officer, she mostly oversaw the code-breakers, and coordinated their schedules.

This was the third time that they had talked like this – him sitting in 'the cage', cleaning weapons, and her, passing along information. The first time had been a warning with regards to Lorraine. The second time had been the detailed MP information passed on to him about the information that Lorraine was collecting with all of her 'targets'.

Now, it was this current situation.

He wasn't sure if this was to become a habit, but even with the current situation, there was a certain odd thrill to it. It didn't seem like Peggy was training him to be more observant than he already was, but he was picking up on the way she handled these types of situations.

Not only did it remind him of the many times he had kept the grudges and fights that bullies and gangs had against Steve, secret from Steve, but there was a sense of fulfillment. It stirred something within him – to play this cat and mouse game, this cloak and dagger route that he liked – and to share it with someone who liked it as much as he did.

Waiting a few more minutes, he then set the rifle that he was about to disassemble and clean, to the side. He cleaned up as much of the place as he could, knowing that with what he was about to do, there was a strong possibility that he would not be able to remain working and observing the area through 'the cage' until later.

Bucky wiped his dirty hands as best as he could with a clean cloth and stepped out of 'the cage'. Making sure it was locked firmly behind him, he made his way over to the code-breaker bullpen, stopping directly in front of Hattersfield's station.

“Miss Hattersfield,” he began, catching the attention of the young woman, as she looked up. Whereas the other women he had done the same to, would immediately blush pink and bat their eye lashes at him, the young woman's response was not quite the same. Her cheeks had flushed slightly red, but she was only blinking at him in surprise.

“On behalf of Captain Rogers and the others, I just wanted to give you condolences on your loss, Miss Hattersfield. I don't know if it will help ease your pain, but I heard that one of the objects that we used in our most recent mission was created and designed by your brother. It saved our lives. None of us would be here, were it not for his device.”

“T-thank you, sir,” the young woman stuttered slightly, looking even more surprised than she had initially been. There were tears forming in her eyes, but she hastily wiped them away, nodding as she said again. “Thank you.”

As much as Bucky wanted to reach out and give her a comforting pat on the shoulder like he had done to his sisters whenever they came to him crying, he didn't. Not only were his hands still dirty from cleaning the weapons, he found that he didn't want to flirt with her in order to carry out Peggy's order to him. It didn't feel appropriate for him to do such a thing to her, not when she was clearly and genuinely hurting from her loss.

Bucky silently nodded and stepped away, his feet carrying him out of the main area and towards another section.

* * *

_Nightfall..._

 

It was a little after seven at night when Bucky finally saw Hattersfield emerge from the front entrance. The sun had already set and darkness was rapidly settling in over the city. Londoners everywhere were hurrying home, anticipating another possible night of air raids from across the Channel. The young code-breaker was no different, and just as Bucky was about to push off from the side of the building's shadow he was leaning against, another figure emerged after her. Neither saw him as they hurried from the front entrance.

He paused in his action, folding his arms across his chest as he watched Brewster gently take Hattersfield by the arm, and guide her across the busy street. He watched them successfully cross, and just as the two reached the other side's sidewalk, yet another figure a few yards away from where they had crossed to, began moving.

While he would have chalked it up to a bystander going in the same direction as Hattersfield and Brewster, the mannerisms of the figure were anything but benign. He had seen the same kind of hunter stalking a prey before on the streets of Brooklyn – from the gangs that occasionally decided to follow and harass Steve before Bucky could get to them and fight them.

The two were being followed, and neither of them seemed to notice it.

Pushing himself off, he took a more oblique route to cross the street, making sure that he kept enough distance between him, Hattersfield and Brewster, and whomever was following the two. While he would have immediately confronted the person following the two, the streets were much too crowded, and he did not want to draw attention. He didn't know if the unidentified person – a man, judging by his gait, was an associate of Brewster's blackmailer, or the blackmailer himself.

The walk down the main thoroughfare was long, but not difficult to navigate. Bucky used the crowds to his advantage, drawing on what he had learned and done while in Brooklyn doing something similar, to help him. He was a little glad that there were knots of service men going about, some headed to pubs, others to apartments or stores before they closed for the night.

Twice though, he had to pause and turn his head slightly to the side pulling his cover – his uniform's hat – down, or slow down so that a knot of people covered him, so that he was not identified by the figure who tailed Brewster and Hattersfield. The follower was good, he noted to himself.

He remembered the various bullies who thought they were going to get a ganged up advantage over Steve through an alleyway, never saw him following them. This follower was cautious enough to pause himself and look around for anything suspicious around him – which included turning completely a hundred eighty from where he had been, and surveying everything behind him.

About a half hour after Hattersfield and Brewster set off, the two finally arrived at a building that was emblazoned in gold, with the sign: [The Darling-Rothschild House for Women]. He stopped where he was, affecting a sudden interest in the evening's newspaper being sold by the newspaper boy a few feet from where he was. Paying the boy the appropriate amount, he stepped over to the side and leaned against the corner of the building's walls, almost directly below a street lamp that had not been doused yet.

Though he knew that it would make him visible, he hoped that by opening the paper up, both it, and the shadows that the lamp cast, would hide enough of his profile. The paper itself was not much in terms of news from across the Atlantic, and very little more information that he didn't know about what was happening in Europe. Still, he pretended to read it, as he kept flicking his eyes up, catching a glimpse of the person following the two, slip into the adjacent alleyway to the all women's boarding house.

He frowned slightly, but knew that he could not move at the moment. He was certain that the tail was most likely trying to find a way to climb up and into the boarding house, to hurt Hattersfield. To do so at this juncture was definitely going to bring a lot more trouble than anything else. He would have to wait until Brewster left, to intercept the person following the two, and defend Hattersfield, as he did not want the engineer in his way.

Despite claiming friendship and hearing protective words issuing from Hattersfield's lips about Brewster, there seemed to be little to no affection between the two, as Bucky saw Brewster simply unhooked their arms. A few words were exchanged, along with a friendly, but seemingly distant wave of goodbye to Hattersfield. The young man left, and the young woman entered the building, closing the door tightly behind her.

Bucky's eyes tracked Brewster crossing the street, as he folded up the paper, tucked it under an arm, and slipped back into the crowds. Just as he was half-way in closing the distance to the building that Hattersfield lived in, a most unexpected person stepped out from the adjacent alleyway – the man who had been following the two. Bucky immediately took a step to the side and looked up, flicking his eyes over to his left, as he caught the tail end of the man passing close enough that only a thin crowd of people separated both of them.

He still could not catch a glimpse of the person, but the direction that the person was headed in, was clearly to follow Brewster. Bucky counted to ten in his mind, before turning back around and immediately crossed. He caught a glimpse of both turning the corner of a tall building, and picked up his pace.

Nevertheless, as he approached the corner of the building where he had last seen the two, he slowed up. Approaching it gingerly, he took a half-step out and again, saw the tail end of their coats flapping behind them. It looked as if the follower had caught up to Brewster and was forcibly taking him elsewhere.

Concern rose within Bucky, but he still maintained a cautious attitude as he quickly but quietly approached the end of the building. There was an alleyway between this one and the next, and it looked as if the follower had dragged Brewster into the alleyway. He glanced around, but it seemed that this particular road was not as populated as the main thoroughfare, nor was it lighted at all.

“What the hell are you doing?!” a low voice, the same voice as before, Bucky realized as he paused and pressed himself up against the adjacent edge of the building to the alleyway. “Why the hell was Sergeant Barnes talking to you?! None of the soldiers are supposed to talk to you pathetic engineers! You're just there to build them their killing machines, no more no less.”

“I said nothing!” Brewster vehemently denied, fear and panic evident in his tone. “I'm telling the truth! I said nothing to him!”

“Then why the hell was he talking to you?” the voice demanded.

“Because you killed my friend, and he was just expressing his condolences, you asshole,” the young man retorted with enough venom to surprise Bucky. “Now let me go!”

“Good,” the voice said in a calmer tone, and there was some noise that indicated that Brewster was being let go. “It confirms the rumors that I've heard.”

“Why the hell would I lie to you, you son-of-a—” Brewster began, hissing his words.

“Lie to me, and it won't just be Thomas and Emily Hattersfield's blood on your hands,” the voice threatened.

“You wouldn't dare—”

“Wouldn't I?” the voice interrupted, tone sinister and utterly malicious. “You know what _we're_ capable of.” There was a pause, and in an even more threatening tone, Bucky heard the voice whisper, “If you don't want that secret of yours to get out, you'll go right back to work, you piece of filth.”

There were a few seconds of silence, but then footsteps began approaching the entrance of the alleyway. Bucky immediately backpedaled as fast as he could, trying to keep his footsteps inaudible. He managed to slip into the main thoroughfare's crowds in the nick of time, catching a glimpse of Brewster emerging from the alleyway, hands in his jacket's pockets, before the flow of the crowd caught up with him.

For the next few seconds, Bucky made sure that he was not seen by Brewster as he walked further up the thoroughfare, watching the young man head back down. As soon as there was a good knot of people between the two of them, Bucky broke free of the crowds and returned to the side street and alleyway as fast as possible without alerting anyone around him.

He mentally swore as he peeked into the alleyway and found that there was no evidence of anyone being there. Whomever was the tail, had taken another way out and was gone. He had not seen any sign of the follower, up the side street, or among the fringes of the main road.

There was only one avenue left open for him, and damn what Peggy had ordered him to do – he now wanted answers.

* * *

_A half-hour later..._

 

The walk back was long enough for Bucky's anger to build to explosive levels, but he kept his expression as neutral, and open as possible. At first he had thought that the blackmailer was a part of the engineering team, as each person in that main lab had heard his words that he had spoken to Brewster. But the more he thought about it, the more it seemed unlikely, as the words that the blackmailer spoke of, pointed him to be somewhere else where rumors ran like the wind.

That encompassed most of the SSR, which made it difficult to pinpoint down who exactly it was, or whom – if the blackmailer had associates. Clearly one of the other engineers must have spread the rumor of his words of condolences to Brewster, though it puzzled him as to why it was done. In a secret organization fighting a somewhat secret war, there were enough rumors everywhere to last at least two lifetimes – none needed to be added.

At the present though, he entered through the main entrance, giving a nod to the MPs on duty. Shedding his uniform's jacket, he draped it over an arm, not wanting to leave it anywhere on the main floor. He didn't want to give the blackmailer or his associates any evidence that he had returned here before his next shift's reporting hour. He knew that all of the MPs were not a part of the blackmailer's confidence, due to seeing the copious amount of notes that Lorraine had detailed for one of them.

As he descended the stairs and into the main lab, there was no one in the lab, except for Brewster. The young engineer was at the far side of the room, back turned against him, and most likely did not hear him come down the stairs. There seemed to be an air of misery hanging about the young man, as he was working on something that Bucky could not see.

Bucky tossed his uniform's jacket over Steve's shield as he passed it, and loosened the collar of his shirt slightly, in preparation for a possible fight. He did not want to beat up the young engineer, but he was prepared to do so, if it would mean that Steve and his friends remained safe.

Glancing over at the modifications that had been on the weapons that the Commandos had brought back, he noticed that his sniper rifle was still on the table. Oddly though, there was a set of schematics sitting underneath the rifle, and he took a quick glance at it, curious. The initials of [D.B.] were on the corner of the top most schematic page.

Returning his attention to the matter at hand, he approached, clearing his throat loudly enough that Brewster jumped and spun around. “Who the hell is threatening you, and why the hell do they want to kill Steve?” he bluntly, and angrily asked.

“I-I don't know—”

“Don't give me that bull, Brewster,” he stated, determined not to let a growl crawl into his tone. The last thing he wanted to do, was to sound exactly like the blackmailer. “I followed you and whoever the hell that person was, tonight. I heard the two of you talking. I don't give a damn as to what he's blackmailing you for, Brewster. All I want is a name, and why. Who this person works for, if you can't give me a reason why he wants Steve dead.”

Either the young man was shocked into stupor for a moment or otherwise, that moment of silence was interrupted by the clatter of footsteps coming down the stairs. Bucky blinked, schooling his expression back to as neutral as possible as Howard of all people, appeared.

“Barnes?” the chief engineer and inventor questioned, pausing at the foot of the stairs. “What are you doing here so late? Whatever the hell Steve and the rest of you brought back, it's big enough for Philips to actually tell us to take the night off. It's going to be work, work, work tomorrow.”

“Mr. Brewster was just showing me the new specifications he's designed for my sniper rifle,” Bucky lied, partially glad that he had taken the time to take a brief look at the schematics sitting beneath his beloved rifle.

“Well, don't stay up late, you two,” Howard said, striding across the room to pick up a white fedora with black trim of all things, and plopped it onto his head. “You'll both regret it tomorrow when Philips begins cracking the whip on all of us.”

It was only well after Howard left, and that Bucky couldn't hear his footsteps anymore, that Bucky returned his attention onto Brewster. Howard's interruption had snapped the sharp point of anger that had been sitting like a fine-tuned piano wire across his chest. He was still angry at Brewster, but the young engineer did not deserve his ire, no matter how he felt about the threat against Steve's life.

“Why'd you do that, Sergeant Barnes?” Brewster quietly asked, fiddling with what looked like a cartridge shell in his hands.

Bucky sighed, and turned slightly to pull up a stool to sit on. He gestured for Brewster to do the same, and watched as the young man placed the cartridge shell on the table he had been working at, and sit.

“I'm sorry,” Bucky apologized. “I shouldn't have yelled at you, but what I heard earlier was—”

“The EMP wasn't supposed to be an EMP, sir,” Brewster quietly interrupted, wringing his hands together, unable to look at him directly in the eyes. “Thomas designed it specifically to be an EMP, and I had built it to his specifications. When Mr. Stark had us present it to Colonel Philips to ask him to certify it for field usage without the usual testing phase, Colonel Philips suggested that it be deployed on your next mission. The one you all just returned from.”

The young man paused for a moment, looking even more dismayed and anxious than he already looked, before continuing on, saying, “That night, when I stayed behind to finish up a few other things, Thomas was already escorting Emily back to her apartment before returning to the apartment us two shared. That was also when the blackmailer appeared and threatened me. He wanted me to sabotage and turn the EMP into an explosive.

“I refused to do it and told Thomas about the threat. We couldn't go to Mr. Stark or the others, because the blackmailer left another threat. But I still refused to do it. Thomas caved, and sabotaged it. I went back in the middle of the night and repaired it a couple of hours before you were all deployed. I didn't think I could fix it, since Thomas knew more about the theory behind EMPs than I did.

“A few days later, after Corporal Morita radioed in for mission success, I was up late in the lab, and decided to sleep here, instead of going back to the apartment. The blackmailer killed Thomas, when he should have killed me. He killed my friend all because I refused to give in to his demands.”

Finally, Brewster looked up, and though there was still fear in his eyes, Bucky saw defiance, as the young engineer said, “I don't know what he looks like, Sergeant, and I still don't. All I can tell you, sir, is that I think this person is someone working in the SSR. But officer, agent, or otherwise, I'm still not going to give into his demands. He's going to have to kill me before I will ever let anything I build harm you, Captain Rogers, or the other Howling Commandos.”

As much as Bucky wanted to believe him, there was still one thing that stood out to him, and it was not what the blackmailer had blackmailed Brewster with. “Yet, you returned here after he told you to come back here. Why?” he asked, tone and demeanor serious, as he folded his hands together, narrowing his eyes slightly.

“I don't care if the blackmailer releases my secret, Sergeant Barnes. I just don't want him going after Emily. I can't have her blood on my hands, not after Thomas. So, I came back here, hoping that if it looked like I was obeying him, he would leave her alone,” the young man stated.

Bucky remained silent for a long while. His anger at the young engineer was completely gone, refocused on the blackmailer – whomever he was. He believed that the young man was telling the truth. It was clear now just how much Brewster had tried to not give in, and how that price had been paid.

He knew Peggy would most likely be wary of bringing Brewster, the primary target of the blackmailer, into the fold. He would have to clear it with her first before he could do much of anything to help the young man.

“You're not alone in this, Brewster,” he said, unfolding his hands, and stood up. “I'll have to clear it with someone else first, but if we play our cards right, we might just be able to catch this son-of-a-bitch in two days – before Steve and the others return.”

Relief seemed to bleed from the young engineer as he too, stood up, saying, “Thank you, Sergeant Barnes.”

“Bucky,” he said, extending a hand out. “And I meant it with my words earlier about Thomas. I'm sorry for your loss, and I wished he could have been alive to know that the device worked as intended.”

“Bucky,” the young man repeated, taking the hand and shaking it, looking somewhat happier than he had been since Bucky had first met him. “Please call me David, then. And thank you for your kind words.”

Bucky nodded, letting go at the same time David let go. They had two days to catch the bastard, and he was determined to do so without anyone else being threatened or killed.

 

~*~*~*~

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The OSS is the Office of Strategic Services, a wartime intelligence agency of the United States during WW2. Among the jobs they had to support the war effort was to coordinate espionage activities behind enemy lines, create and disseminate propaganda, and subvert enemy forces. They had a few post-war activities, but after their dissolution, they were superseded by a certain three letter agency. Though they sound similar to what the fictional SSR did, they were a real agency. In the world of the MCU, it would make sense that they would want to borrow Captain America for propaganda purposes, since he was no longer performing on the USO circuit.


	2. Day Two

**Chapter 2: Day Two**

 

If there was one thing that Bucky disliked about the SSR, it was the paperwork. There was a report, an accounting, a ledger, for every single thing that not only the 107th, but also SSR personnel used on their missions or analysis. Sometimes, Bucky half-wondered how exactly the entire underground bunker was not covered in piles of stacked reports, considering how much each of them had to write.

Mundane reports, such as accounting for the clothes and supplies they had used while in the field, to the estimated number of bullets fired – estimated because Bucky thought it was utterly stupid to hunt for shell casings in the field, even when the accountants wanted them accounted for – was reported. It was only the field action reports that he enjoyed writing, especially about what they had done to kick HYDRA's ass.

Of course, Steve was the one who wrote most of the reports, including the field report while leaving out some of the more gruesome details that no one really needed to know about. With Steve at the OSS Headquarters until late tomorrow, it was up to him to write all the reports before the rest of the Commandos got back.

Bucky knew that he could have pushed it off to the side, and make Jones and the others write their portions before collating it together for Steve to include and submit when they were all present, but the bean counters were one hateful group. They always had a habit of demanding the accounts within twenty-four hours of a team's return. Bucky knew that if he didn't get these reports in by noon today, Philips was going to be demanding his head to feed to the accountants.

It was a partial relief to him when he found that Peggy was working in the main area today, instead of wandering from area to area as she usually did, whenever he saw her around the base. It meant that he did not have to walk directly to Philips himself to drop off the report, which was what Steve usually did. It also meant that he was going to be able to pass on what he had learned last night to her without trying to find some other secret method of communication.

“Carter,” he greeted, dropping the pile of folders on the corner of her desk with a _plop!_ “Good morning.”

“Sergeant,” she said, putting on a seemingly false and irritated smile on her face as she looked up from her work. “I see you still like to write reports and submit them in the last minute, as usual,” she commented, taking the stack and placing it elsewhere on her desk.

“Of course,” he answered, giving her an amused, but equally irritated smile, knowing that her words and his, along with their actions, could clearly be heard and seen by others around them. “Steve told me to tell you that the section on the devices may hold some interest to what we've brought back. It's on page three of the field notes.”

“Oh,” she said, almost dismissively, but did take the top most report – the field report – off of the stack and flip to the appropriate page.

She remained silent for a few moments, as Bucky saw her eyes read the lines quickly. There was nothing on that page except for a copious amount of notes on the EMP – courtesy of his discussion with David last night. While he knew that Steve – and him, whenever he wrote the reports – would have normally not put that much detail on what their weapons' modifications had done, in this particular case, he needed to get the point across to Peggy without letting anyone else know.

Bucky knew that he had more than enough to go to Philips and let the commander know of the threat, but neither he nor David knew if there were any others working with the blackmailer. Whenever David had caught a glimpse of his blackmailer, he had said that the man had been in different disguises. The blackmailer had the same growling voice, but always looked different – enough that David could not easily identify the man at all.

He knew that Peggy wanted to catch all of the conspirators at once, and thus, this route: wanting to bring David into the fold of his and Peggy's hunt. It also gave him the avenue of writing the extensive details of the EMP, its function, and what it had done when it had been set off. Peggy knew from yesterday, who had built the EMP, and Bucky hoped that it was a subtle enough hint for her to understand what he wanted to convey.

“How... interesting,” she said a moment later, snapping the report shut, and placed it back on the stack. “I'll submit this to Colonel Philips... later.”

There was enough sincerity in the tone of her voice, along with an actual pleasant but teeth-clenching expression on her face, that for a brief moment, Bucky thought she was actually going to carry out that threat of submitting the reports late. Even his expression showed it, before he managed to school it back to a more neutral, but still as pleasant as he could be in the morning.

Peggy was Steve's girl, and he got along with her just fine when there wasn't anyone else around. There was a limit to how far he could take the fake perception of his and Peggy's 'unpleasantness' in front of others. It wouldn't do either of them any good for an argument to break out at the moment – not when they truly needed to work together, and make sure they were not being seen working together by this blackmailer or any other associates of the blackmailer.

“It's on your desk now, Agent Carter,” he said, smirking at her, knowing that even as friendly as they were, it was something that consistently irritated her. He turned and left.

Howard's words about Philips cracking the whip on all of the SSR had not been said in jest, as Bucky went about his other duties that needed to be done. Code-breakers and other personnel were incredibly busy with their own tasks as well. More than once, Bucky had caught a glimpse of a folded piece of map or report from the haul that the Commandos had brought in, being passed from one set of hands to another. Whatever the Howling Commandos had found, and whatever the analyses was saying behind it – it was big.

As much as he was supposed to be on leave, even though he had remained behind, Bucky had long forgone the fact that being on 'leave' in the SSR meant that no one really was on leave. Even when he had been on actual leave in a different locale, enjoying the rest that he needed, he always kept an eye out for unusual activities. Nazi and HYDRA spies were everywhere, along with assassins.

'Leave' was not leave for him – just a switch from being a straight up soldier, to a more spy-like or agent capacity similar to Peggy. He didn't mind it, so long as his friends and Steve were able to enjoy their leave.

At the present though and more than once, Bucky had passed by or caught a glimpse of a lot more brass than the usual ones walking in and about the SSR. Some of them were being escorted to the war table, where Philips had set up his desk for the day, but more than a few were there to receive briefings and then immediately leave for topside communications.

Even the Enigma machines, situated in their own locked vault with a single, tiny glass window to peer through, were churning through and spitting out messages constantly. Bucky had been pulled from one of the other tasks he had been assigned to, to briefly run several of the messages from one side of the SSR to another. Yet, he still kept his ears open, ready to get to the com officers' stations to recall the rest of the Commandos on the order of Philips.

It was late afternoon by the time the SSR was given a moment to breathe – Bucky included among them. While not always common, Bucky had seen it happen enough to know that this was the 'hurry up and wait' portion of an upcoming mission. All of the analysis, assessments, and preparation would continue, but coordination between other Allied forces, and movement of troops information needed to come in first.

Whatever brass that Philips had briefed today would be sending the word out to their commanders in the region for information. That information took time to collate and return through secure channels, and Bucky knew that it could potentially arrive as early as a few hours from now, or some time tomorrow. After that, the Commandos and potentially any other 107th team in the area would be deployed.

'Hurry up and wait' wasn't the most pleasant of times – not for a soldier like him, but it did give him more time to relax as best as he could and finish cleaning the weapons from yesterday. Bucky hadn't even touched the lock on 'the cage' to unlock it when he heard the rapid clicks of heels on the floor of the bunker approach him. Turning slightly, he saw Peggy thrust a folded piece of paper out at him.

“Please run this down to Howard as quick as you can, Sergeant,” she ordered in a no-nonsense tone.

“Yes, ma'am,” he answered, taking the folded paper and feeling the slightly odd weight to it, and immediately left.

As he passed by knots of people, he only had a short moment to loosen the folded paper just enough so that a tiny scrap fell out into the palm of his left hand. He quickly read through the lines on the tiny scrap: [ _Watch for B's reaction when the other runner comes through. Bring binoculars when you're done._ ]

Crumpling and stuffing the scrap into a pocket, he continued down the hall and down the stairs. At once, a general cacophony of voices and noise greeted his ears as he reached the bottom of the stairs and made his way through the knots of engineers at their stations. With the main lab so crowded, it had been difficult to identify where David was in the sea of white lab coats. Nevertheless, Bucky had caught a glimpse of the young man working on something that had to do with his sniper rifle, just as he reached the floor.

He left the young man alone and continued towards where Howard was. The man was easily identifiable by his boisterous and loud orders to everyone else not already occupied. The inventor was also issuing additional orders to those already trying to complete what their tasks were, while gesticulating at another person and holding something purple-looking within a vial.

As soon as Howard had spotted Bucky coming through, Bucky saw him place the vial down. “Here,” he said without preamble, shoving Peggy's message towards him. “Carter didn't tell me that she needed an answer from you, so I'm going to assume that you're okay.”

“Yeah, hold on, Sarge,” Howard distractedly stated, opening the message and scanned it quickly. “Yeah, I'm okay. Tell her 'thanks', next time you see her.”

“Fine,” he answered, even though he could have (and had before) told Howard to tell Peggy his own thanks before.

At the moment, everyone down here seemed to be inching closer to some catastrophic breakdown of a machine here, and there seemed to be a higher amount of stress than he had seen the engineers at. It reminded of Bucky of a time when it had been a bad day at the Brooklyn Shipyards. He knew better at the moment to not say or do anything that could tip over that proverbial scale – not when it was clear that the SSR was in the midst of gearing up for a large operation.

“Stark, I need to calibrate the binoculars, where did your people store them?” he asked just before Howard could turn his attention away from him.

“Over there,” the inventor stated, gesturing towards where a couple of sacks of stuff was at the end of the table, near Steve's shield.

That shield still hadn't moved from where Steve had last left it, but it seemed that all of the other weaponry modifications that had been on the table had been moved this morning. There were a few crates and sacks of unknown stuff sitting on that end of the table now, but apparently, somewhere within that mess on the table were the binoculars.

Bucky thanked Howard, but the inventor's attention was already elsewhere and moving away. Making his way through the engineers again, he reached the sacks, and opened one of them to peer inside, just as he saw another message runner coming down the stairs.

Mindful of Peggy's words, Bucky kept his attention on the binoculars within the first sack he had opened, and rifled through it. At the same time, he tilted his head ever so slightly to get a better view of the runner – a young man at or about his and Steve's age.

In the harshness of the lights down here in Howard's laboratories, the runner had reddish-brown hair, with a slightly narrow face, somewhat prominent cheekbones, and slightly square jaw. The glasses that the runner wore were not the usual thick ones that were common on most who worked here – they were rimmed in thin metal and almost seemed to be perched on the runner's nose like a small bird perching on a branch.

As the runner wound his way through the knots of engineers just like he had done a few minutes ago, it was David's reaction that proved to be more interesting than anything else. Bucky saw the young engineer freeze for a few moments as the runner brushed past him. There was fear alighted on David's face, before he seemed to suddenly remember that he was in public. As sudden as the reaction had come, it disappeared a moment later, as Bucky saw the young man return to whatever he was working on, on the sniper rifle.

Bucky didn't stay long after that, but long enough for the runner to pass on whatever message he needed to, to Howard, and return upstairs. He passed that short time by making sure the other sacks didn't contain binoculars before hefting the one that had all of them up. Per protocol, since these were technically, a part of Howard's inventions and modifications, Bucky went through the secondary exit-entrance corridors.

Upon reaching the main hall and entrance, he emerged into the ground floor and immediately turned into the stairwell next to the entrance. The building was old enough that there was no elevator installed. Thus he had to climb the many flights of stairs to reach the rooftop.

He was not breathing harshly when he finally emerged out into the dreary, grey afternoon of London on the building's rooftops. There was no one in his immediate vicinity, and so he walked around to the other side. Unsurprisingly, Peggy was standing directly behind the exit-entrance to the rooftop.

Silently, he put the sack down and fished out two binoculars, handing one to her. He had not been lying to Howard when he said that the binoculars needed to be calibrated – he just did not expect to complete the task at the moment. He preferred to calibrate Howard's custom-built binoculars in the dark, where it would be more useful, than in the light.

“David froze,” he began without preamble, bringing the lenses up to his eyes and began adjusting them to meet at the zero point, using St. Paul's Cathedral as his marker point. “I've seen fear on people before, but I've never seen this kind of fear on anyone before.”

“Emily did the same,” Peggy answered. “Their reactions confirm my hunch. Those two _know_ who is blackmailing David.”

Bucky clenched his jaw for a moment before bringing the binoculars down and tapping a tiny black button flushed against the inside left rim of the binocular to set the calibration. He placed the binocular down and picked up another one, and did the same to it. He had thought by extending his trust to the young man, that David would reciprocate and actually tell him everything about the blackmailer, including what the blackmailer possibly looked like.

The betrayal of that trust did not sting, but it did stir a small ache in his heart. “Don't blame him for not telling you, Bucky,” Peggy's voice brought him back out of the fog, as he realized that he had over calibrated the current set of binoculars in his hands. “If I were him and faced with the same threat, I'd trust no one outside of my closest friends either.”

He quickly recalibrated the binoculars before placing that down and picked up another one. However, he didn't bring that up to his eyes, and instead, glanced over at Peggy, who had another set in her hands. “You know what this person is threatening him with?”

Peggy sighed, as he saw her put down the binoculars, tapping the inner rim of the left lens and placing it to the side. She picked up another one but like him, didn't bring it up to her eyes. “I didn't make the connections until late this morning, when Scotland Yard delivered the personal effects they had found on Thomas' body. Emily has them now, but there was a scrap of a Bible verse in the effects. I didn't give that to her, since I think it would have furthered her fear of the blackmailer.”

He saw her push the zoom button on the binoculars absently before flicking her gaze towards him, holding his eyes. “David prefers the company of men. That's the secret that the blackmailer found out, and is threatening him with.”

Bucky was silent for a long moment, as he felt something that he had not felt for a very long time – not since the day his father had begun beating him. Fear – a raw fear that felt unlike anything he had felt before. He had turned that fear into defiance, and then into—.

As soon as he managed to regain his inner composure, he found that he could only whisper his words, saying, “That's a death sentence for him, if it gets out.”

Something seemed to flicker behind Peggy's eyes before she turned away and brought the binoculars in her hands up to her eyes. He did the same as she said, “Howard either knows and doesn't care, or doesn't know and probably still won't care. Either way, I want to save both David and Emily, without all of this getting out. It would be career ending for not only the two of them, but potentially also for Howard, if word got out that one of his proteges was being blackmailed to kill Captain America.”

“So, what's the plan?” he asked. “Now that I've seemed to have messed it up by bringing David into the fold.”

“No, you did well,” she answered. “You gave me an avenue to force both of them to tell us what they really know. I want both of them to confirm to me that the blackmailer is a code-breaker named Alistair Brooke. As much as I want to think that the world revolves around Steve—” at this, Bucky couldn't help the slight upwards quirk of his lips, despite the seriousness of the situation “—I believe Brooke might be after something else. Something bigger that could cripple all the Allies.”

“How?” he asked, placing the calibrated binoculars down, and picked up the final one in the sack.

“I'm not sure yet, but considering HYDRA's movements, their placing a code-breaker – a good one at that – into our ranks is very concerning. I'm still investigating that avenue, but until I have something of use, this cannot go beyond the four of us.”

“I agree, but Peggy,” he began, bringing the partially calibrated binoculars down and looked at her a little worriedly. “The last time Steve told me a HYDRA agent got into the SSR's ranks, that agent shot Dr. Erskine.”

“If Brooke was an assassin, he would have struck long ago,” Peggy answered, shaking her head slightly. “He's been in the code-breaker ranks since before Steve became Captain America.”

Bucky remained silent for a few long moments before nodding in acquiescent to his silent agreement to _not_ do anything to the mole. He brought the binoculars back up to his eyes and then asked, “What do you need me to do to get David to confirm that it is Brooke?”

“Bring him to the pub and keep him there until closing time. I'm going to call in a favor from the bartender and bring Emily myself. It'll just be the four of us, and hopefully, we'll be able to stop this from furthering to disaster,” Peggy stated.

* * *

_Later that night..._

 

The lack of trust from David still oddly stung, but with all things considered, Bucky did understand why the young man did not trust anyone other than his close friends – one of whom had died already. It was a secret that one always hoped to carry to the grave. Still, there was no reason for him to treat the young engineer any differently, as Bucky hoped that Peggy's words to both David and Emily would be enough to convince the two to at least trust them to catch this blackmailer. No secrets from the two had to ever get out, if they played this cat and mouse game correctly against the blackmailer.

Thus, despite the lateness of the hour, Bucky made sure to wait until the blackmailer left. Brooke had been surprisingly working in the code-breaker pool during the day, not the bullpen where Emily was. With Peggy shifting more of her time into the primary pool than the bullpen for the rest of the day, Bucky had taken whatever tasks he could that kept him in the main area. Not only was he keeping a secret eye on Emily, but also on who was going in and out of the primary hall to the engineering labs.

At the present, Brooke had headed towards an unexpected place, as Bucky continued to sit in 'the cage', cleaning the last of the weapons. A few moments later, he finished reassembling the gun and placed it back in the appropriate area. Cleaning and setting everything back into their proper place, he locked up 'the cage' and down to the engineering labs.

The lab was mostly empty, with most of the engineers having left for the night to at least get a few hours of much needed rest. The night-shifted engineers that Howard had assigned for night work were trickling in, and there was a potent smell of coffee in the air. To Bucky's relief, David was still there, but even from where he was standing, the young man looked more tired than usual.

The engineer had not even noticed him, and he could only surmise that it was because Brooke was in the lab. He could only assume that it was also only because of Brooke's presence in the lab that David didn't look to have collapsed on his stool just yet. As somewhat expected, Bucky saw Brooke conversing with Howard about something, though Howard looked tired as well.

Instead of heading over to where Howard was, Bucky made his way over to where his sniper rifle was. He deliberately picked it up and called out, “Hey, Stark!”

Either the coffee had not kicked in for the night-shifted engineers, or his voice was a little louder than expected, Bucky turned just in time to see a couple of the engineers jump slightly. Holding up the rifle, he ignored the startled look from David, whom seemed to have become just a little more awake with his shout.

“Can I take Vera upstairs? She hasn't been properly cleaned since her last mission,” he said.

It was a valid question, but it was also his way to make an inroad for an excuse. At the moment, it was also the only excuse he could come up with at the moment, to get David away from his blackmailer. He just hoped Howard would say the right words—

“Uh... I think we're making some modifications to her—” Howard began, looking slightly unsure. Bucky didn't blame him for not knowing exactly what was being done to the rifle, considering that there were most likely hundreds of other projects that he was working on or had tasked his people to do.

“Some magazine modifications, sir,” David spoke up, turning towards him and sounding as exhausted as he looked.

“Is it going to affect her weight and balance?” Bucky asked, frowning slightly. The small glimpse of what he had seen in the specifications yesterday did not give him any indications as to how exactly the modifications would actually affect his beloved rifle.

“Maybe?” David answered, furrowing his eyebrows slightly, as he turned back and reached for a large sheet of diagrams.

“Mind if I borrow your engineer for a bit?” Bucky asked, taking the opportunity for what it was – a way out for both him and David, so that they could meet up with Peggy and Emily. The pub was only open for another half-hour, as there had been a large sign posted on the door early in the evening that stated that it would be closed early for restock and cleaning.

“Yeah, go ahead,” Howard said, shrugging slightly carelessly. “In fact, David, after you're done addressing the Sergeant's worries about 'Vera', please _go_ home. I already had Scotland Yard release the apartment. I don't want to have to come in and see you sleeping here for the sixth day in a row.”

“Yes, sir,” David answered, though there was a sullenness in his exhausted tone that Bucky heard.

It seemed that Howard had not heard it, as the inventor returned his attention to Brooke. Bucky did not miss the slightly annoyed stance that the code-breaker had taken in resuming his conversation with Howard. As Bucky gestured for the young engineer to follow him, he went back upstairs, and to his relief, David followed.

He remained silent and continued down the halls, back out into the main area. He continued past the code-breaker bullpen, noticing that Emily was giving her friend a puzzled look. It was just before they ascended the stairs that would take them to the ground floor that David finally asked, “Where are we going?”

“Pub,” he answered, glancing slightly back, pausing for a moment. “Might want to shed the lab coat and bring it with you. You'd stand out like a sore thumb.”

“We can't discuss your rifle here?” David asked, looking a little more alert and slightly suspicious.

“We can, but my associate wouldn't like us discussing it here,” he answered.

“Oh,” David said after a moment, realizing what exactly Bucky had dragged him out of the lab for. “ _Oh_.”

Silently nodding, Bucky turned back around and made his way up, as he heard the faint rustle of clothing. A few moments later, David appeared, walking beside him with his lab coat balled up and tucked beneath an arm. “Sorry about the lack of a warm coat,” he apologized as he glanced over and saw that the young man seemed to be swimming in the collared shirt and trousers he wore.

It reminded him so much of Steve before the serum that Bucky almost shed his uniform jacket to drape it over the young man. However, he managed to stop himself from performing that action – unsure as to how David would react to such a gesture. Steve always seemed to dislike the gesture, and it had taken Bucky a few offers to understand why: Steve had hated to be coddled more than he already had been with his weak body.

“You want to borrow mine?” he asked instead as they exited into the building's ground floor, which was almost bereft of personnel. Only the MPs on duty remained, and they only spared the two of them a simple glance before returning their attention to the security of the area.

“N-no, thank you,” David stuttered slightly, as Bucky glanced over to see him shaking his head a little too vigorously. There was also a slight, but odd flushing of the young engineer's cheeks. “It's a short walk, right?”

“Yeah,” he answered.

“The cold should wake me up then.”

There was a strange finality to that tone, but Bucky did not bother him about it. They exited the building and made their way – quickly, because he was worried about just how cold it was – to the pub. Gesturing to the barkeeper at the entrance, he headed towards his usual booth in the pub, glad that it was empty as usual.

Sliding into the side which gave him the whole view of this side of the pub, and a wall against his back, David slid into the opposite seat. A few moments later, a runner came by with two mugs of ale. “You don't have to drink it,” he said, as he noticed the young man's slight grimace at the mug of ale. “In fact, you're welcome to just go to sleep until my associate arrives. I'll wake you up at that time,” he offered.

“But—” David began, looking embarrassed.

“Stark wasn't lying when he said you've been sleeping in the labs for nearly the past week, wasn't he?” he gently asked, pushing away David's mug with the back of his left hand, while taking his own mug forward towards himself with his right. “Don't tell me you stayed up all night last night?”

“The blackmailer... I know the blackmailer expected to see some progress done... so I had to come up with something that would satisfy him,” the young man fearfully stated, looking as miserable as he was exhausted.

“Sleep for now, David,” Bucky insisted, deciding to remain silent on the fact that David was still lying to him about not knowing the blackmailer. “At least close your eyes.”

“But the pub is closing in twenty minutes—”

“Let me worry about that,” he gently interrupted, shaking his head slightly. “Just close your eyes and rest. You're safe here. I'll keep watch.”

Whether it was a combination of exhaustion, Bucky's reassuring words, or just the fact that David was elsewhere and nowhere near his tormentor, Bucky saw him nod ever so slightly. He saw the young man shift ever so slightly, shoving the balled up lab coat against the wall before leaning against it, and closed his eyes. A few deep breaths later, David was out like a light.

Bucky glanced down at his mug of ale and took a sip of it, before placing the mug down. There was a deep seated, ice-cold anger growing within him, the more he watched the young man sleep. It had nothing to do with the fact that David was still lying to him.

That anger could be attributed to blackmailing, but Bucky knew that what the blackmailer was doing was plain and simple bullying. He hated bullies them as much Steve hated them. It took every ounce of self-control that he had, and then more to not go right down there and beat Alistair Brooke up.

This was more than just bullying, blackmail, or a clear threat against Steve's life. This was an issue that – if Peggy's investigation was successful – could have implications in the war as a whole. He had to keep an eye on the bigger picture, and bury what he was feeling for the young man's plight along with his worry for Steve. He could not run off like the hothead both he had Steve had been when they had been younger and less constrained.

The twenty minutes passed in relative silence, and it was only after the pub was cleared – with the bartender ignoring both him and David, that Peggy and Emily finally showed up. Both had slipped into the pub through the back, as the front door was locked. The lights had been dimmed to the point where it was almost difficult to see, but Peggy had brought a lit candle to the booth. Bucky silently gestured to the sleeping David, as Emily gave both him and Peggy a slightly surprised look.

“Have a seat, Emily,” Peggy said, as she took a seat next to him, gesturing for Emily to take the seat next to the sleeping David.

“Yes, ma'am,” the young woman said, looking slightly nervous before turning and gently patting David on the arm to wake him up.

David's startled reaction coming out of what little brief sleep he had gotten was slightly expected, but the young man managed to calm and compose himself slightly before having the decency to look slightly embarrassed. Bucky didn't even bat an eye at the actions, and merely glanced over at Peggy to begin however she wanted to begin, to question the two.

“You both know who the blackmailer is,” Peggy bluntly stated. “I'm not here to question as to why didn't you want to tell either Sergeant Barnes or I when you had the chance. We just want to know who it is.”

Bucky expected both of them to remain silent, and look nervously at each other and at them. He also expected them to refuse to talk, after everything that had happened, as it seemed that fear had deep talons within both of them. “Look,” he spoke up before Peggy could, pushing his mug aside and folded his hands together. “Agent Carter and I really don't care about whatever this blackmailer has on either of you. You know us by reputation, so you damn well better know that we're more interested in results: that is, stopping this blackmailer.”

“It will be treason and attempted sabotage that the military courts will brand both of you with, if word gets out that this blackmailer succeed, and neither of us will be able to help you at that point,” Peggy stated. “We are trusting you to do the right thing, and trust us. Completely.”

Silence answered her, and it seemed to stretch for a few long minutes before Emily's nervous voice spoke up, saying, “Alistair Brooke. Alistair Brooke killed my brother, and is threatening David—”

“Because, he found out that I—” David began.

“Good, we have a name,” Bucky interrupted in a firm tone before the young engineer could finish his statement. “Thank you for confirming it. Now leave the rest to us, and go home. Both of you.”

“But we want to—” Emily protested.

“Emily, David, go home,” Peggy stated in a sharp tone. In a firmer, less harsh tone, she then said, “Leave it to us. We have a plan to catch him. Just carry on as usual tomorrow.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Emily solemnly stated, and a few moments later, David echoed the same words, though he still looked worried.

“David, get some sleep,” Bucky said, as the two slipped out of the booth, with David taking his balled up lab coat with him. “We can discuss the rifle modifications after this is all over, all right?”

The young engineer silently nodded, though the worried look did not evaporate from his face. Bucky watched as the two left through the back entrance. It was only after the door had closed, that Peggy blew out the candle and slipped out of the booth. Bucky followed her, leaving the change on the table next to the barely touched mugs of ale.

“I didn't think Mr. Brooke noticed where we've gone to, but let's follow them until they both get to their homes,” Peggy suggested, as they too, left via the back entrance, with the owner nodding silently towards them before shutting the door behind them.

“I should've made David take his coat,” he said, feeling a slight pang of regret as he watched the young man walk down the street, arm-in-arm again with Emily. Bucky offered his arm to Peggy, who took it as they set off, following a few yards behind the code-breaker and engineer. “The poor lad is freezing out here.”

“Is that a bit of the east end of London I hear in your words, Sergeant Barnes?” Peggy asked, as they slowly walked, watching the two in front of them, and everything else around them.

“Maybe,” he answered, refusing to confirm to her as to where exactly his family had immigrated to the United States from.

“David won't freeze in this weather,” Peggy stated. “The apartment he shared with Mr. Hattersfield is directly across from where Emily lives. He'll be all right in this weather. He's a London born and bred 'lad'.”

“You ain't gonna let that go, ain't'cha, Agent Carter?” he asked, putting on the heaviest Brooklyn drawl he could manage.

“Never,” she answered, her own accent changing to a harsher one with that one word, as he briefly glanced over at her to see the corner of her eyes crinkling ever so slightly in laughter.

He shook his head slightly in amusement. They walked in companionable silence, keeping watch on their surroundings. While he would have liked to hope that Alistair Brooke had not known where any of them had gone off to, he was not optimistic about that opinion. There were sure to be rumors about him and Peggy after this, but for the sake of keeping Steve, the two people walking in front of them, and the Allied forces safe, it was a small price to pay.

“What did you mean yesterday, when you said Emily wasn't 'my type', Carter?” Bucky asked, after a few minutes of silence, taking a quick glance over at her. “I mean, she isn't as gorgeous as a few of the other women around here, but I wasn't aware that I had a 'type'.”

“I'll set aside the fact that you think she's not pretty enough for whatever idiotic standards you're comparing her against, Sergeant,” Peggy icily stated, before returning to a more neutral tone, saying, “but yes, you have a 'type'. Blonde hair, or variations of that color, and light shades of eye color, are your type, Sergeant.”

“Natalie's a redhead,” he pointed out.

“You just needed her to distract Dernier so that you could take his portion of dessert for some odd revenge thing he did while in the field,” Peggy pointed out.

“Wait, Steve told you about that?” he asked, slightly startled. When she didn't answer, he merely sighed and shrugged, saying, “So, I have a 'type'. And?”

“It makes you predicable, Sergeant,” she answered.

Bucky blinked, frowning as he asked, “Surely you're not suggesting that I'd be smitten and blinded by a 'type' of woman? I have to say, after you, Betty, and even Lorraine, I'm not saying that I'm intimidated, but rather more aware that most of the personnel here tend to overlook all of you.”

“Yes, they do,” Peggy said, nodding. “But if you decide to further your career in this direction, you should be aware that many, many male spies and intelligence officers have met their downfall because their enemies discovered that they had a 'type'. You've heard of Mata Hari?”

“Who hasn't?” he said. “All the papers back home sensationalized her story and trial.”

“Just be careful, Bucky,” she quietly said, nearly whispering her words. “You're the first person that I've worked with who has the natural skills, and potential to be an incredible intelligence agent. If Philips wasn't so insistent in keeping you within the ranks of the Howling Commandos, the OSS would have snatched you up in an instant.”

“I wouldn't enjoy working with them anyways,” he answered, feeling a little disconcerted with the praise and warning wrapped up into one. “But thanks, Peggy... I think.”

She remained silent, and Bucky let that linger for a few moments before asking, “Is it correct for me to assume that that Emily came to tell you about the blackmailer, after you called to see if she was still loitering in the logistics area?”

“Yes,” Peggy answered, as he saw her nodding slightly out of the corner of his eyes. “Though she tried to frame it not as blackmail, but more of a threat against Steve. It was clear to me that she was trying to deflect it from a blackmail and more towards a general threat, hoping that she could spare David from the scrutiny. Had I not investigated Mr. Hattersfield's death, I would have dismissed her concerns. She was, after all, one of the more vocal and visible admirers of Steve.”

“I didn't know that those admirers bothered you so much,” he commented, glancing over at her, frowning slightly. He wondered if he should have had discreetly helped her with that—

“They normally don't,” she said. “It's just usually vapid rumors and gossip that run around his admirers. I can scarcely believe some of the stories they make up, when they think I can't hear them. At least Steve's male admirers are not as prone to spreading such stories as some of the women are.”

“It's just Emily's concern bothered you enough that you listened this one time?” he guessed.

“Yes,” she said, giving him a slightly concerned look. “And it makes me wonder just how much I've doubted those rumors. I mean, all it is is just fantasies that they know that can possibly never come true, but—”

“Peggy,” Bucky said, tone serious as he took a quick glance around to make sure that there were still no one else following them, or the two walking ahead of them. “Remember, I'm there as well, especially in the field. We're both going to make sure that no harm comes to Steve. We both know that most, if not all of the rumors and gossip are and have been harmless.”

He gestured slightly towards David, saying, “He may have lied to us, but I believe him when he says that he will not give in and build anything that will harm Steve. There's genuine care, admiration, and the want to do no harm to those he likes – and it's very clear that he fully admires Steve, even when he knows that—”

Bucky paused, feeling a slight pang of sympathetic sadness for the young engineer. “Well, there you have it,” he finished up lamely.

He knew that he could not mention the secret that Peggy had told him earlier in the day – not even when there seemed to be almost no one walking out at this hour. Considering their discussion, he needed to remember that the first rule of how rumors spread, was that there were ears everywhere.

“I forget how much you're like Steve,” Peggy said, reaching up with her free hand and patting his crooked arm, smiling. “The two of you want to believe the good in people. It makes me want to as well.”

“But there always has to be someone who does the dirty work; to make sure the flag is never soiled. I know that that's me,” he answered. “However egotistical it might sound to you, I know that that's what I am to Captain America. So yeah, I hear what you hear, but when I match it to what I'm hearing in the field, most of the gossip are just that – gossip. Steve will be safe, Peggy. I'll always be there to make sure of that.”

She was silent for a few long moments as they continued to walk. “You know, I think you're wrong about Mr. Brewster,” she said after a moment.

Bucky gave her a slightly puzzled look, before asking, “What about?”

“About his admiration for Steve,” Peggy answered. “I think it might be someone else.”

There was something in her tone that made Bucky slightly annoyed yet intrigued. He knew that with that tone in her voice, she was not going to tell him anything further and make him puzzle it out for himself. It was a long game they had played – just between the two of them and no one else. Not even Steve knew that they played this 'game', which had started the day Peggy Carter wore that stunningly gorgeous red dress into the pub and completely ignored him in favor of Steve.

“I'll puzzle that out after this crisis is over, Carter,” he said after a moment.

“I look forward to your answer, Sergeant.”

Soon, they paused and ducked slightly into a corner of a building near the women's boarding house that Emily lived in. As they watched David and Emily talk for a few moments before Emily patted David's hand and gestured for him to go home, Bucky's eyes traced up and around the boarding house. “Do you think you can get me the schematics of Emily's building, Carter?”

“I'm not helping you break in to visit some woman that you happen to be flirting with that week, Sergeant,” Peggy answered, giving him a disapproving look. “I myself, and a few others live there, so if you're worried about Emily's safety, you need not to.”

“And David's safety?” he asked, glancing over towards the building directly across from the boarding house. “Howard all but confirmed that he's been sleeping in the labs for nearly the entire week. It's also clear that he's not eating well because of all of this.”

“I can't ask you to stand guard, Sergeant,” she quietly answered, lowering her voice to a whisper. “You're needed within the SSR to make sure that Brooke is not sabotaging anything else tonight. The MPs expect the night shift to work until the morning, but that doesn't mean that those on the day shift will not be allowed in. I can only do so much and watch the building from here. He will have to be on his own for tonight.”

“He's on his own, Carter,” he answered in equal quietness, as they watched the young man walk across the empty street, looking this way and that. “Sleeping in that apartment—”

Bucky fell silent as David did not enter the front of the building, but merely turned and began to walk down the sidewalk – back towards the SSR Headquarters. “Goddammit,” he whispered his cursed.

“Let him be,” Peggy quietly ordered as he felt her unhook her arm around his. “It will put Mr. Brooke more at ease to see him return and doing whatever he thinks David is doing to further the blackmail.”

“What?!” he said, nearly hissing his words as he turned to completely face Peggy. “You cannot be serious—”

“I am,” she said, meeting his eyes unflinchingly.

“Carter, he was being beaten up in the alleyway of his apartment building _yesterday_ ,” Bucky said making sure he kept his tone low but at the same time, disbelieving what he was hearing from Steve's girl.

“You said so yourself, just now. You're the one who does the dirty work to make sure the flag is not soiled. You want to continue doing this kind of work, Sergeant Barnes, you'd better be prepared to compromise most of your morals,” she answered just as quietly, giving him a stony look.

“Brooke will not injure him to the point of visibility or disablement,” she continued. “It would raise too much suspicion. He needs David to sabotage the next device that Steve will receive. That's the limit that Brooke can go to, without arousing any of our suspicions, while he uses that distraction to find what he needs for the coup de grace.”

Bucky frowned, but he heard her words. He heard them, and he understood what she was saying, even though a part of him didn't want to. He knew that some part of him wholly agreed with what Peggy was saying and doing – and had even compared it to what he had done to settle Steve's accounts back in the day. He would be a complete hypocrite if he didn't stick to his words to her.

“But it still doesn't mean that we cannot show compassion,” he answered at last.

“No, it does not,” she agreed, taking a step forward and turned so that they were facing each other again. “Until this is over though, and Mr. Brooke caught red-handed in his deeds, Howard's engineer's life is still in danger.”

“I know,” he said, nodding once, knowing that he could not do anything at the moment to tip his hand towards the blackmailer. It had already been risky enough to get David out of the lab the way he had done so. Any further and overt action from him tonight to protect the young man could possibly be detrimental to Peggy's investigation.

“Good night, Sergeant Barnes,” Peggy said after a few moments, turning away and stepped out into the sidewalk. He watched as she walked with confidence down the rest of the sidewalk and entered the boarding house, shutting the door firmly after her.

“Good night, Agent Carter,” he quietly stated into the silence.

 

~*~*~*~

 


	3. Day Three

**Chapter 3: Day Three**

_After midnight, before dawn..._

 

Breaking into locked cabinet where Lorraine kept all of the personnel files of those in the SSR – including all of the 107th, was no small feat – at least in Bucky's opinion. Firstly, it had involved some creative stealing of several tools from Howard's main lab without the night-shift engineers noticing them missing. That had also involved him taking his sniper rifle with him and leaving a note for David to let him know that it was being cleaned.

Bucky had not seen the young man anywhere when he had gone down to fetch the needed tools, and rifle. None of the engineers present had even gave any indication as to where David was, and Bucky really had no excuse to go wander into the other adjacent and smaller labs. He was also not about to conduct a base-wide manhunt for the young engineer, not wanting to raise any alarm or alert Brooke – whom he hadn't seen either.

As for the locked cabinet, after he had returned the rifle to its temporary storage, he had carefully watched the MPs in the area's routines, while cleaning the rifle. They had kept the area buttoned up tight, and as glad as Bucky had been about that, he had been a little annoyed. Fortunately, the second part of his breaking into the cabinet had come in the form of something clattering down the hall to the engineering labs.

Bucky had taken that distraction and opportunity to quickly break into the cabinet. The folders had been filed in alphabetical order, but because he had not a lot of time to search, he took the stack from 'Ba' to 'Bu', which had been more than two-thirds of the 'B' folders. He had been fortunate that not all the folders were extensively thick, but he also had to make sure that he did not misplace one piece of paper from the stack.

Now, he sat on the rooftop. The stack of folders had been brought up in a satchel that he had taken from 'the cage' with him, along with his freshly cleaned rifle. He flicked off the flashlight as he finished reading what information Lorraine had discovered and written about Alistair Brooke. It was not much – at least nothing that would give him a solid lead on possible affiliations that Brooke had with a specific group of enemies.

While the SSR was mostly tasked with stopping Johann Schmidt and HYDRA, Nazi factions were on their list of things to stop as well. Bucky lumped all of them together as enemies, but he was not ignorant to the information presented during their briefings to know that there were some infighting among the various factions. HYDRA's breakaway from the Nazi's was one such successful breakaway.

He had hoped to isolate what faction Brooke was working for, in order to help Peggy's investigation. All the file had told him was that the code-breaker had a good, if not somewhat wealthy family background that enabled him to get into Cambridge. Connections that Brooke's family – if they were all true – had allowed the young man to be recruited for work at Bletchley Park. Brooke's transfer to the SSR had been requested by someone within the government.

Placing the folder to the side, he folded his hands and rested his elbows on his drawn up knees. He didn't even begin to contemplate or review what little he had seen of Brooke in the past two days, when he heard the creak of the door to the rooftop open. The door swung close and a moment later, he surprisingly heard David call out, “Sergeant Barnes, are you up here?”

“Over here,” he answered, wondering why the young man was still up, never mind how the young man knew to come all the way up here to find him. A few moments later, the slight scuffing of footsteps on the rooftop announced David's arrival.

“I thought Carter told you to go home,” he began, though there was no bluntness to his tone. Calling out the fact that he had seen the young man turn away from his apartment building while he had been walking with Peggy was something that David did not need to know.

“There's work to be done,” was all the vague answer he got.

Bucky could not argue that logic, and he didn't feel like it anyways. He knew that he could nag for the young man to sleep, but that would overstep his place at the moment. He did not consider himself a friend to David yet, nor did he think the engineer considered him one either. There also was still an ongoing investigation. The trust between him and the engineer was tentative at best, and Bucky also knew that there was really nothing he could say to convince David to go get some rest.

“I'll give Vera back once I'm done calibrating her scope,” he said, picking up his sniper rifle that had been lying on the ground on his other side.

“I'm sorry I didn't consult you before beginning modifications to your rifle, sir,” David apologized.

“David, I told you to call me Bucky,” he said, before gesturing for the young man to take a seat next to him as he held onto the rifle.

Even in the darkness, Bucky's eyes were adjusted enough that he could see David's expressions. Most prominent on the young man's face was hesitancy. Whatever Zola had done with his infernal experiments, it had granted him sharper eye sight during the night – but not enough to blind him during the day. As much as Bucky hated the 'enhancements' done to him, this was one of the very few that he used to the fullest – all the better to defeat HYDRA.

“I lied to you—”

“And I don't care that you did,” he interrupted, shaking his head slightly. “You had every right to not want to tell either of us the full truth. I'm just glad that you and Miss Hattersfield will let us root out whatever Brooke is trying to achieve.”

“But the threat against Captain Rogers is still real, sir—Bucky,” David protested, but sat down, drawing his coat tighter around him.

“Yes,” Bucky nodded in affirmation. “But Carter and I think that that's also a distraction – something to throw Brooke's scent off of what he's really after.”

“Do you think that you and Agent Carter will be able to catch him before Captain Rogers returns tonight?”

There was no earnestness to the question, only inevitability in the young man's tone. As much as Bucky wanted to tell David that he knew what exactly Brooke held in the blackmail, he didn't say it. He had no right to, and it was as he had said to Emily and David earlier: he didn't care for the secrets that they had. However, he could see that David needed a friend – someone to talk to who was not Emily, and Bucky realized that perhaps Thomas had been that confidante to David.

At the moment, Bucky could not offer to be someone like that. If he thought with his heart and not his mind, he knew that he was bound to get into an even deeper world of trouble. His experiences in helping Steve while they had been living in Brooklyn told him that. All he could do at the moment was to give what little hope and reassurance he could, as he did not know if either he or Carter could catch Brooke before Steve and the other Commandos came back.

Bucky did not know what to do if the Commandos were deployed before Brooke could be stopped. Yet, he was not naive enough to think that Brooke would not make good on his threat against David during the Commandos' next mission. They had to catch Brooke by tonight.

“Leave it to us, David,” he stated.

The young man was silent for a few long minutes before saying, “I've been designing modified magazines for your sniper rifle to hold eighteen bullets instead of the usual six in each. The feed mechanism will also be adjusted to allow for a faster rate of fire.”

“Any clearances or modifications to make sure that duds are not too much of a problem with a higher rate of fire?” he asked, glad that David had decided to finally leave the issue with Brooke and Brooke's capture alone.

Bucky hefted his rifle up and slipping forward to lie on the ground on his stomach. Bringing the rifle up and settling it into its usual position against his body, he pointed it towards St. Paul's Cathedral and began calibrating the scope.

“Flashlight is back there, on my right,” he murmured. He knew that the engineer would want to see exactly where the rifle was positioned whenever being used. It would also help himself describe where weights could and could not be added, so that the additional weight issues with the new magazines could be properly addressed.

“Not yet,” he heard David's answer as he heard the young man shuffle around, before a faint amount of light from the flashlight entered his peripheral vision. “It looks like I'm going to have to add some more weight to the end to help absorb the impact,” he heard the engineer mutter after a moment. “That's going to unbalance the barrel...unless...”

“Unless what?” Bucky asked, briefly removing his eye from the scope and looked over to his right to see David sitting near the barrel of the rifle, cross-legged and looking pensive.

“There is a scope that Mr. Stark is working on,” the young man began. “It's larger than what you have now, since he's been trying to upgrade the binoculars to detect energy signatures that the energy weapons give off. He's been trying to experiment with seeing through walls and the like with the scope as well. It's heavy in its current configuration, but it could offset the weight of the modifications.”

“How big?”

With the light from the flashlight indirectly shining against both of them, Bucky saw him gesture the estimated size of the modified scope with his hands. “Just add the magazines, David,” he said after a moment. “Don't worry about the impact absorption on my shoulder, or the scope.”

“But—”

“Let's see how Vera works with one new thing at a time, all right?” he said, patting the side of his rifle. “She's temperamental as is, and I don't want her to go through too many changes at once.”

“All right,” David answered after a moment, nodding in acquiescence.

Bucky returned to calibrating his scope, though he heard David hesitatingly ask a moment later, “Bucky, do you mind if I ask you a question?”

“Go ahead,” he answered, reaching up with his left hand to turn one of the knobs ever so slightly.

“Why is your rifle named Vera?”

“She wasn't named after a girl from home, if that's what you're wondering,” he answered, as he couldn't help but faintly smile. Not one of his fellow Commandos, or anyone on the base or field had ever asked him that question. Even Steve had not questioned why he had named the rifle as so, though he remembered Steve giving him a puzzled look before shrugging and accepting that the rifle had a name.

“The origin of the name is Russian,” he explained, as he continued to tweak the scope. “Years ago, there was a story that my mother used to tell me. It was about a young girl who ran away from home in Petrograd, Russia, to live the way she wanted to, free from the confines of her birth. Her name was Vera, and her journey to freedom was harsh and full of dangers. It always stuck with me that even though it was a story, she had survived so many obstacles in her life. My mother said that it was because the girl faced each obstacle head-on and did not waver, and always struck true.”

“Was there some truth to the story?” David asked a few moments later. “I mean, most stories come from sensationalizing actual accounts heard from another person.”

“That's the heart of it,” Bucky answered, pulling away from the scope ever so briefly and glanced over towards the young man. “Vera means 'truth' or 'faith' in Russian.”

David was silent for a few moments before Bucky thought he saw the edges of the young man's lips quirk up in a smile. It was the first time he had seen him with such an expression, and he had to admit that it was a relief to see that the young man could still find some goodness in his life.

“It's a lovely and very appropriate name for a rifle of that calibre, Bucky,” David said. “Thank you, for telling me.”

“You're welcome.”

“I...” David began, the smile disappearing in an instant as the worried look returned. “I know that I should be sleeping, and I'm going to try to, but would you please not tell Mr. Stark that I stayed another night here? I know he means well, but I cannot go back to my apartment. Not at the moment.”

Bucky nodded, but did not press for the reason. Instead, he said, “I'll return the rifle in the morning. I hope you try to sleep well, David.”

“Thank you. You as well,” the young man answered, getting up and shutting off the flashlight before placing it back where he had found it.

Bucky didn't immediately return his attention to finishing up the calibration on the scope, as he listened to the footsteps of the young man fade with his return into the building. He glanced back towards the stack of folders sitting untouched and next to the flashlight. His own file was among the stack, and he had already read through what little notes there had been.

A slightly bitter smile crept up his lips as he stared at the pile of folders. Tonight had been the first time he had told anyone the story – however condensed it was – that his mother had told Becca and him when they had been growing up in the Whitechapel district of London. After they had moved to New York City, their mother had never mentioned the story ever again. Bucky had never realized the actual truth of the story until he had returned from Army training, and visited his mother just before he had been deployed.

Whether it had been fear for his life or otherwise, he still could not puzzle out why she told him the truth that day. 'Vera' in the stories that his mother had told him, had been her. Her real name had been Vera Fyodorovna Romanova. She had managed to escape Russia before its revolutionaries crying out for the blood of the overthrown Tsar and extended family, could catch her. She had managed to make it all the way to London, and had sought protection and a new name. By marrying Bucky's father, she had found the protection she had been seeking, and had begun her new life in relative safety.

Bucky's opinion on his father had not changed at all with that shocking revelation, but he had caught the underlying warning that his mother implied about leaving old ties behind in Europe. He didn't think anyone in the Soviet Union would care that a distant female member of the Romanov family was still alive, but he knew that he had to be careful whenever he spoke Russian to Soviet soldiers the Commandos ran into, in the field.

Thus far, he had managed to pass off knowing Russian as one of the languages that a few members of the 107th had picked up. He had also made sure that he injected as much of an American accent as he could into his pronunciation. He always hoped that his mother's Petrograd flavor of an accent in Russian, that she had taught him and Becca when they had been young, did not show.

It was also one of the many things he had to make sure that Lorraine did not find out about.

Tonight had been the first time he had ever told the story of 'Vera' and her escape to someone else. It was not that he had been trying to tell his mother's story, but that he felt that David needed something more tangible than platitudes of reassurances that he and Peggy would stop Brooke. In a way, he was glad that he had been able to pass on his mother's story of courage and perseverance.

He just hoped that David would keep 'faith' in him and Peggy, and trust that they would stop Brooke.

* * *

_Early Evening..._

 

Trying to discreetly follow and observe Brooke throughout the day had not been an option – not with the amount of things that he had been tasked to do. Communications from several fronts, commanders, and various organizations had begun to flow into the SSR just after dawn. More than once, Bucky had heard somewhat reliable information being passed back and forth that the Commandos were going to be deployed as soon as the final piece of data returned. What that final piece was completely unknown to him, but Bucky knew better than to bother anyone for information. He would get it when they briefed.

Surprisingly though, Philips had not tasked him to request an early return for DumDum and the others after dawn. His friends, along with Steve, were scheduled to return sometime in the evening though. It wasn't that Bucky was feeling like he had completely lied to David about catching and stopping Brooke before Steve returned, but he was definitely beginning to become a little worried as the numerous clocks within the SSR ticked their minutes away past sunset.

He had barely seen any sign of Peggy throughout the day, and—

Bucky was jolted out of his current thoughts as he was not the only one to pause and look up towards the ceiling of the SSR as the wail of air raid sirens suddenly blasted out of the loudspeakers attached at various points around the station. It had been over two years since the last actual German air raid. Yet, instead of the siren wailing for the brief moment it occasionally did to warn residents that German airplanes had been spotted over the Channel – this wail was still ongoing.

This was an actual air raid; not a warning that there was the possibility of a German airplane passing over London.

“This is Colonel Philips. I am initiating Order 616. Begin evacuation protocol,” Philips' booming and commanding voice briefly overrode the siren over the loudspeaker.

Bucky was not familiar with what Order 616 entailed, but it seemed that most of the senior members of the SSR knew what it was. Fortunately, Philips stepped out of his office a few moments later, locking it up tight. “Sir,” Bucky called out, hurrying towards him. “What do you need me to do?”

“Go help the MPs secure and guide those above ground down to the emergency evacuation points,” Philips ordered. “Point One is directly though the Logisitics area and into the tunnels. Point Two is through the west hall. Don't let anyone through Point Three, the engineering labs. It's already structurally weakened by what Stark did in testing Schmidt's weapon.”

“Understood, sir,” he answered, snapped off a quick salute and hurried to the stairs.

Climbing up and to the main entrance, he began guiding the various civilians down the hall and to the stairs. While most of them were the military and contracted civilian personnel from the building above them – Betty included – soon, more than a few actual civilians began to show up. Bucky kept his expression and tone calm and controlled, as he read apprehension, worry, anxiousness, and fright within the civilians.

“Sergeant Barnes!” he heard Peggy call out to him after what felt like a half-hour had passed. The sirens were still wailing, and more than once, Bucky had heard the rumble of Spitfires soaring low and across the skies.

He saw Peggy trying to push through the crowd and tapped one of the MPs on the arm to let the MP know that he was going to find out what was needed. Making his way over without trying to push people out of the way, he pulled Peggy past the MP guarding the secondary entrance route that led to the engineering labs.

“Brooke was not in the code-breaker pool when I went to go supervise their evacuation,” Peggy began without preamble, whispering her words. “I need you to go down to the labs to make sure that he hasn't attempted to escape through the tunnels connected to there.”

“Will do,” Bucky immediately answered.

He saw Peggy hurry towards the MP a few feet away from them, and turned. Hurrying down the halls, it was only after he disappeared beyond the first corner that he broke out into a run. If he had run down the hall in view of the civilians, Peggy, and the MP, it would have just sparked panic.

Punching in the code to get into the bridge, he raced across it, and did the same to the other side. Entering the main lab, he skidded to a halt, closing the door behind him. It was silent within the lab and empty, but the constant whopping wail of the siren could still be faintly heard. He quickly climbed up the steps to the main floor, and poked his head out. There looked to be nothing out of the ordinary, as he returned to the main lab proper.

Going over to the heavy bolted door that led to the tunnels, he touched and ran his hand around the edges, checking for any signs of the dust and seal being broken or disturbed. There was nothing scuffing the ground to indicate that it had been open either. When he didn't find anything, he stepped back and frowned. He glanced around again, noting that everything that the engineers had been working on had been left as-is.

Chemical experiments that had been bubbling off in the corner were no longer bubbling, and the burners shut off. Scattered leaflets of notes were lying haphazardly everywhere, but it looked as if the evacuation had been done in a mostly orderly fashion. It was the object in the corner of the room that caught his attention though: Steve's shield.

Walking over, he plucked it up and slipped his left hand into the straps. While it was not considered essential to save, Bucky rather it be saved – both for morale and symbolism, and more practically in the fact that it was the only thing capable of fully protecting Steve in the field.

Going over to the adjacent lab, he looked around and did not find any sign that Brooke had been here. It looked generally the same as the main area, even though the shattered window of the test area – blown out by Howard's testing of HYDRA's energy source for their weapons – still remained bare.

Bucky returned to the main area and took one last look around—he paused just as he was about to take a step forward and back to the main evacuation areas. Narrowing his eyes ever so slightly, he thought he heard a faint beeping noise. Crouching lower to the ground, he tried to block out the noise of the sirens, and—there.

It was a beeping noise, and however faint it was, it was not at all anything he had heard any of Howard's experiments or gadgets emit. Carefully and silently creeping forward, he paused ever so often to try to pinpoint where exactly the sound was coming from. After a few minutes of searching, he ended up crouched near a wide grating on the floor. It was where excess materials both liquid and not drained into the sewers.

There was something faint and silvery that looked to be attached to the bottom of the pipe. Bucky thought he could see a faint red light pulsing out from it, as he heard the clear beeping noise coming from it. Considering the depth of where it was attached to, it looked as if the drainage pipe was almost large enough for a boy of ten or so to be able to fit through it. There was no way he could reach for it and pluck it out without removing the grating.

Glancing over at the shield, he knew that he had no other choice but to use it, as it was the only material strong enough to withstand hitting metal against metal without chipping or breaking. The only problem was, was if his own strength was enough to apply enough force to break the grating open. He had not tested his own strength since being rescued; a part of him wanting to deny what Zola had done to him had been similar to what the serum had done to Steve.

_Suck it up, Barnes_.

Taking a deep breath, he positioned himself and the shield over the grating and struck twice on either side of rounded grate. The second strike cause the grating to fly up ever so slightly, loosened from the floor. Using his right hand, he grabbed the metal slits and lifted it up and out of the way.

He shed the shield and placed it over to the side, as he reached in with his left hand. He had to lie down to get his arm deeper into the pipe. Bracing himself slightly with his right hand as he adjusted and stretched for the device, the tips of his left fingers brushing ever so slightly across the metal device. Wiggling and shifting forward some more, his left index and middle fingers finally curled ever so slightly around the device.

Carefully lifting it up, he curled it up into the palm of his hand in a slightly firmer grip—

“Don't move another inch, Sergeant.”

Bucky didn't freeze as so much he turned his head ever so slightly more to the right. There was absolutely nothing humorous about the situation, but he couldn't help the sardonic upwards quirk of his lips. He should have known that it would have come to this – especially with the fact that he was now sure that it was an active transponder held within his left hand. He could only assume that it was how the air raid sirens were triggered – incoming enemy aircrafts risking it all to destroy this area of London.

Standing near the sealed exit to the tunnels was Brooke, and there was a small pistol that glowed ever so slightly blue in its core, pointed right at him. The grip that Brooke had on the gun was a dead man's grip – bound and secured to his hand so that the index finger was always on the trigger. Bucky curled his fingers around the transponder ever so tighter, but he knew that he was not going to be able to crush it on strength alone. He also knew that he was ill-positioned to dodge the blue bolt from the gun – especially with the shield still lying on the floor to his left.

He should have seen this coming; he should have assumed that Alistair Brooke was a HYDRA agent. Nothing more, nothing less.

“You vaporize me with that thing, and Captain Rogers will hunt you down to the ends of the earth, Agent Brooke,” he stated in a calm and controlled tone.

“He won't be able to,” Brooke stated, backing up ever so carefully towards the door, continuing to point the weapon at him. “No one will be able to in a matters of days.”

For one quick moment, Bucky weighed his options: he could continue to goad, continue to try to verbally delay Brooke, or he could take the risk and physically stop him. In the split second that he saw Brooke turn his attention ever so slightly away and towards the door, along with the slight shifting in where the pistol was pointing – he struck.

Yanking his arm out of the hole in the floor, while rolling onto his back and to his right, Bucky threw the transponder directly towards Brooke – just like a grenade. At the same time, he saw a blue bolt lance out from the barrel of the gun, strike the transponder and—

It burned – hotter than anything he felt before, as it seared across his uniform's jacket, shirt, and skin.

The bolt grazed his outstretched left arm ever so slightly, but the transponder's trajectory, along with his swiftness in moving, curling, and snatching up Steve's shield had been enough for him to dodge most of it. The bolt burned its way through and into the floor, where he had been, as he crouched and turtled himself behind the shield. Five more bolts lanced into the shield, dissipating harmlessly off of it.

Two explosions swiftly followed the bolts, and Bucky only had a moment to look up from where he was crouched, to see the door to the tunnel swing open. It was followed swiftly by shouts and screams from the civilians on the other side, as Brooke immediately barreled through and began to run. Bucky scrambled up, throwing the shield at Brooke, but missing him by a hair, as it became briefly lodged within the door.

“Move!” he shouted, sprinting forward and snatched the shield out of door while ignoring the lancing pain that crawled up his left arm.

Civilians left, front, and right of him dove out of the way, as Bucky pushed his way through, shield held on his right arm now. Deep within the tunnels of the Tube, there was little light, though the various flashlights that the civilian evacuees carried with them provided just enough for him to see where he was going.

“Move!” he roared.

Brooke was fast, but Bucky was just as fast. Those civilians ahead of the agent were alerted to the commotion, but more than a few did not get out of Brooke's way fast enough. Bucky could not stop and help those shoved to the side, especially not with Brooke managing to get further and further away, as sheer curiosity as to what was going on made the civilians crowd some more. He had to throw the shield – toss it and hit Brooke as Steve easily did to HYDRA soldiers.

The only problem was, was the dead man's grip that Brooke had on the gun. He could try to aim for Brooke's center of mass and down the agent, but there was a greater possibility that it would induce an endless finger pressure on the trigger. Those deadly bolts would be unleashed into the civilians.

There was only one thing he could do, and Bucky acted as soon as he saw it – the thin opening that was given to him as the civilians all around him lessened ever so slightly. He threw the shield underhanded, putting every single ounce of his strength – including whatever Zola had done to him – into the toss.

The silvery red-white-blue shield soared parallel to the ground, but at the last possible second, suddenly arced up and struck the gun. It sheared the barrel from the rest of the gun, at the point that Bucky remembered Howard saying was where the possible the power source for the gun was stored. The momentum of the shield's trajectory also translated into lifting Brooke's arm up and away, violently unbalancing him as the cracks of bone was heard. The shield smashing into the gun and indirectly into Brooke had enough speed to dislocate and break the agent's arm.

Two shots from Bucky's right rang across the near darkness, even before Brooke had finished flying up and forward. Had he not been so used to hearing and experiencing the closeness of the shots that rang out, he would have flinched. Instead, he glanced over ever so slightly to see that Peggy was standing beside him hair askew and wild, and breathing hard.

By the time Brooke landed, which was not a second later and was followed by the clattering of Steve's shield falling back to the ground, the agent was quite dead. Whether it had been from the indirect hit the shield had done to him, or from Peggy's shots with her Walther PPK, was not really his concern. What was his concern was what exactly Brooke had on him.

Both he and Peggy closed the distance to the body of the dead HYDRA agent as the civilians around them gave them a wide berth. More than a few were standing still and openly in shock, and some were crying. Most of them could not believe what they saw though, as more running footsteps clattered on the ground behind the two of them.

“Make way, make way,” Bucky heard Philips order.

Bucky and Peggy reached the dead agent, as Philips and the others approached. He glanced back to see several MPs, along with Howard, Philips, and surprisingly, Lorraine, Emily, and David approaching. Both Emily and David looked to be hanging more behind the MPs than attempting to get in the way.

Bucky crouched and reached out with his right hand to turn the dead agent over onto his back, as he reached out with his left hand, towards where Steve's shield had clattered to the ground. He ignored the pulsating burning pain that lanced up and down his arm, as he dragged the shield forward and handed it off to Howard, who had come forward.

“There might be the remnants of a transponder near the lab's exit, sir,” he said, turning his attention briefly to Philips. “I think it's HYDRA made, considering how underground we were. It was buried deep within the pipes, just above the main drain grate. I don't know when Brooke planted it, but it must have been recently. It would explain why the air raid sirens went off tonight, as opposed to any other night. I think he was trying to escape.”

Howard's soft curse sounded louder than it normally would have, as Bucky returned his attention to the dead body and saw Peggy rifle through the clothes and various pockets on Brooke. A few moments later, she pulled out a folded piece of paper. From the flashlights being shone in the area, Bucky could see that it was flecked in the agent's blood.

“The weapon is HYDRA-made, sir,” Peggy stated, unfolding the paper as one of the MPs handed her a flashlight. “But it looks like he was carrying information on certain operational aspects that would have crippled not only us, but all of the Allied forces.”

As Peggy began to stand, Bucky reached out to help her up, still ignoring the fact that his left arm was in a lot of pain. He saw her hand the paper directly over to Philips, who read it and frowned. “McIntyre, get me Atlantic and the OSS on the line,” he heard Philips order.

“Yes, sir,” one of the MPs stated, hurrying away to carry out the order.

The SSR commander then folded up the piece of paper and handed it back to Peggy, saying, “I take it that you've been watching him for the past few days? Misdirecting him?”

“Y-yes, sir,” Peggy answered, looking slightly surprised.

“Good,” Philips stated, nodding once. “Were it not for your actions, this traitor would have done more damage than he already attempted to do. Take care of this, Carter, and get me a new scramble dictionary within the next twelve hours. I have people to brief.”

Whatever Philips had ordered Peggy to do, it seemed that it was something that she felt pride in, as Bucky saw her blink in astonishment before crisply saying, “Yes, sir.”

As Philips turned his attention to the MPs and order them to take the body away, Bucky took the opportunity to step out and away from the circle. However, it was Philip's stern, “Sergeant Barnes,” that caused him to pause and turn back ever so slightly.

“Yes, sir?” he asked.

“We're lucky that the shield didn't shear through the power source of the gun that the traitor had on him,” Philips said. “Good aim and job, Sergeant. Go see one of the medics for your arm. They're near Point Two's door, and get yourself patched up. You've done enough for tonight.”

“Yes, sir. Though I think you should thank Howard instead, sir,” Bucky answered.

It was not that he did not want the credit for stopping Brooke, but the fact that he felt that most of the credit should go to Peggy, and Howard for his long-ago briefing. It was clear to him that both Peggy and Howard did not get enough credit for many of the successes that the Commandos had had in the field. Because of the two, they were able to stop a traitor to the Allied cause from spilling whatever he was going to bring back to his masters.

The credit never belong to him; he was only a soldier, a weapon of war used to strike in the places the others needed him to strike at.

“He's the real hero here, along with Carter's work,” Bucky continued, gesturing slightly to the inventor who had an utterly surprised look on his face. “If it weren't for him telling the rest of us where exactly the power source were located on HYDRA's various weapons, I wouldn't have known to aim for that. It was just pure luck that the shield hit where it hit, sir.”

Philips silently nodded, and Bucky turned back and made his way away from the area. Whether it was people still whispering – with some pointing at him – or still in shock over what had happened, Bucky made it to the Point Two entrance relatively unmolested. He saw the medics attending to some of the injured civilians who looked to have some gashes sustained from falling debris elsewhere.

Thus far, he had only heard the distant rumbles of the bombs being dropped and none of the rocking that had accompanied it. He could only assume that the transponder had not been as accurate as he had feared, but accurate enough nonetheless to injure civilians.

Turning away, he slipped past the MPs at the entrance to the SSR's Headquarters, leaving the medics alone. They were busy, and his injury was not life threatening, however much it hurt to be burned by the blue bolts. He was lucky that it didn't directly strike him, and that his reflexes had been fast enough for him to avoid being struck. He hated what Zola had done to him, but in this particular case, he had to give a grudging thanks to the mad scientist for whatever he had done.

Going to 'the cage' he unlocked it took one of the normal binoculars out. Locking 'the cage' back up, he made his way up, past the civilians still trickling down into the tunnels. Just as he reached the main entrance to the SSR, he couldn't help but smile slightly as he, along with everyone else in the area, heard a most wondrous sound.

Spitfire engines, along with the rat-a-tat-tat noise of their machine guns blazing away. “Looks like our boys are taking to the skies with a vengeance,” he couldn't help but comment to the MP standing next to him. “I'm going to the rooftop for a quick recon.”

“Are you sure, sir?” the MP answered, looking at him with some concern. “We're still hearing the bastards dropping their bombs on us, though it has been lessening significantly since about ten minutes ago.”

“I'm sure,” he answered, nodding as he felt a surge of relief flood him. The MPs words confirmed the fact that without the transponder, the enemy aircrafts couldn't accurately pinpoint where the SSR Headquarters and building above were.

Without another word, he exited and turned to take the flights of stairs up to the rooftops. It wasn't a tiring journey, but his arm was acutely hurting by the time he arrived on the dark rooftops. London glittered in the night, but it was the fires that he saw a few blocks away from the building that saddened him. He could see the traces of anti-aircraft guns being fired into the night sky, along with the screams of various Allied aircraft fighting and defending London as if a mother wolf was defending her den.

Bucky spent a few minutes seeing what he could see with the plain binoculars, until footsteps approaching caused him to remove the binoculars from his eyes. “You shouldn't be up here, David,” he said, recognizing the footsteps, as he heard the engineer pause in his approach. “They're still trying to conduct air raids.”

“Neither should you, Bucky,” David answered. “You're injured, and should see a medic before your wound gets infected.”

He turned slightly from where he was, and unsurprisingly, he saw the faint outlines of the engineer carrying what looked to be a small medic's pouch. “What's that, then?” he asked, deciding to humor the young man instead of insisting that David return below ground. The greater and more immediate danger to David's life was over, and from what little he could see of the dogfights taking place in the skies, it looked as if the Allies were going to be successful in driving off the attackers.

“Medic's pouch,” the young man answered. “Agent Carter insisted that I carry it up here, rather than try to convince you to return below. She, and I quote, said: 'For all of his bravery and making sure everyone else is all right, Steve is right. He is an idiot in taking care of himself.'”

“She said that, eh?” he stated, as he couldn't help but grin at Peggy's words, and a little at the embarrassment that over took David in his quote of what she had said. Deciding that it was better to get the ministration of his wounds over with, he sat down where he was and said, “Might as well get this over with, before she tells Steve, and I get an earful from Steve.”

“I'm sorry,” David said, approaching and sitting down next to him, using the distant firelight as the only source of light. “I didn't want to say that, but she said to tell you her words.”

Bucky snorted in laughter as he shifted a bit to make sure that the young man had enough light to work with. Glancing out towards the horizon as he continued to watch the beads of anti-aircraft rounds light up the skies, he felt and heard his uniform's left sleeve being cut up and apart. That was followed by his shirt sleeve as well, as the cold breeze on his bare arm sent a chill though him. The breeze did nothing for the pain radiating up his arm though.

He kept his head and eyes away from what David was doing – not because he didn't like looking at his own wounds, but because he knew that staring at his own wounds being tended to, made people uncomfortable. He was not going to make David any more nervous than the young man already was, considering that he could barely feel the feather-light and slightly shaky touch of gauze being applied to the wound.

“Are you all right?” he asked after a few moments as he felt his arm being carefully wrapped up, and looked back over.

“Y-yeah,” David answered. “Emily says that it was news of the breaking of the Enigma ciphers that Brooke had attempted to smuggle back.”

The news chilled Bucky, but he pushed it to the side at the moment. In the darkness, and with the faint glow of distant fires, he could see that there was still a slightly shocked look on the young man's face. There was also, however, a prominent look of relief. Strangely though, Bucky could also see a slight apprehensiveness about the young man, and wondered what was causing it.

They had stopped Brooke. Nothing had been mentioned about David's deepest secret, or about the blackmail, or Brooke's connection with Thomas Hattersfield's murder that had been made to look like a suicide. What could possibly continue to worry the engineer?

“S-sir—” David began, hesitant.

“David, please stop calling me 'sir',” he gently interrupted, hoping that a reminder of the fact that he still trusted him, would help put David at ease.

“Bucky,” David said after a moment, as if he were pronouncing a foreign word, whereas a few minutes ago, it seemed that he had no trouble pronouncing Bucky's name. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry that you were injured because of this... mess. I-I didn't want...”

“David, it's all right,” he said, shifting from where he was sitting so that he was facing him, shaking his head slightly. “This is what soldiers—no, what I do. I protect my friends, friends of my friends, and everyone that deserves protection. No one should ever be blackmailed or bullied, especially not you. If I'm injured because of it, so be it. I chose to get involved. I could have walked away that day, after I saw Steve off. I could have reported whatever I heard that day to Colonel Philips, but I didn't. So don't apologize for dragging me into this, David. I chose this, and I'm glad I did so.”

In a more lighthearted tone, he grinned, saying, “Besides, if I hadn't gotten involved, I wouldn't have met the brilliant engineer working on my lovely Vera to make her even better than she already was.”

The compliment was just enough for him to see the young man duck his head ever so slightly, looking slightly embarrassed. However, it went away a little too quickly as David looked even more worried a few moments later. “Bucky,” David began, returning his attention to him, seemingly trying to summon the courage to continue to talk.

“I-I know that you said that you didn't care about what Brooke was blackmailing me with, but I don't think it's fair that you risked your life for me without knowing,” the young man said, looking ashamed.

“It wouldn't have made a difference, David,” Bucky solemnly answered when it looked as if David's courage was faltering. “My only advice to you, if you're willing to take advice, is to at least pretend to be interested in a girl. Your secret will be something that Agent Carter and I are willing to take to our graves. No one, and I mean absolutely no one else in the SSR, 107th, or elsewhere needs to know.”

The startled, surprised look that the young man gave him, made Bucky feel slightly guilty for keeping it from him for so long. Yet, he knew that his words were true, as he continued to say, “I over heard a little of what you and Emily were discussing in the logistics supply room. She made a promise to protect you. While I don't know how Brooke found out about your secret, right now, take her for her word. Let her protect you.”

“But,” the young man protested, “it wouldn't be fair to her.”

“It's only an advice,” he repeated, glancing out towards the streets as he heard the rumble of two jeeps driving down, along with the faint echoes of familiar voices ringing in the air.

“It need not be permanent,” Bucky continued to say, briefly raising his binoculars with his right hand, and peered through them. It looked as if both Steve and the rest of the Commandos had been delayed by the night's attempted blitz, but were now arriving back to Headquarters. “You can take the time and find another girl who understands you, and continue to protect yourself—”

“But I don't want another girl. I want you—”

Bucky nearly dropped his binoculars in shock, fumbling with them slightly as he tore them away from his eyes and turned towards David. Even in what little light the distant fires were casting, the young man had flushed bright red, and was mumbling an apology. David looked as if he wanted to flee, yet also torn by the fact that he wanted to stay to continue to profusely and vocally apologize.

Thoughts racing, Bucky thought he could hear the ghost of Peggy's words last night to him, about his – Bucky's – presumption of the young man's admiration and adoration for Steve. Had he read the engineer so wrong? He was usually good at catching out whomever had more than a passing, flirty interest in him, but realized that he had only focused on women. None of his observations or analysis had included men.

He had just _assumed_.

The only time he had focused on that was whenever making sure nothing came between Peggy and Steve. That had been the only time he had focused on reading both men and women.

“I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't—” David's stumbling apology catapulted Bucky out of his stunned stupor.

“David,” Bucky began, stopping himself half-way in reaching out towards the young man. He had broken the hearts of many of the girls he dated before, but this was...different. At the moment, David was looking down the ground, mumbling his apology.

He did not want his next actions or words to be misconstrued, and said, “David, look at me, please.” The young man still did not look up. Bucky decided to forego his own hesitancy and fully reached out, clasping his left hand over the right shoulder of the engineer in a gentle touch. “Please?”

It seemed it was enough to at least get David to glance up ever so slightly. Bucky had to take it for what it was worth as he took a deep breath, but did not let go of the young man's shoulder. “What you want, is something I cannot give.”

_Why?_

_Because...I..._

_You're such a hypocrite, Barnes._

Bucky shoved the internal debate within himself to the side as he continued to say, “I still would like to remain friends with you though, if you'll allow it.”

_Friends._

_You're such a coward, Barnes._

Letting go, he dropped his left arm into his lap, ignoring the slight flare of pain crawling up with that action. After a few silent moments that were punctuated by the noise in the streets below, David finally raised his head. He still looked thoroughly embarrassed, but to Bucky's relief, there was a spark of hope and of acceptance in the young man's eyes.

“Y-you're not...?” David hesitatingly asked.

Bucky shook his head, but did not answer or presume whatever question the young man had wanted to qualify. There were too many assumptions he could attach onto that unfinished question and he was not about to pressure the engineer into clarifying anything. David had been though too much in the past few days. Right now, the young man needed mercy and understanding in order to heal, not condemnation from a world that did not accept that love knew no boundaries of the gender.

_It is a secret to keep among my own secrets._

“Thank you,” the young man said, a tearful smile on his lips, as Bucky saw him nod in agreement. “I'd like that as well.”

* * *

_Twelve hours later..._

 

“I suggested to Howard that perhaps the SSR could attempt to contact Wakanda to see if they have anymore of this vibranium material,” Bucky heard Steve murmur to him, as the two of them and the rest of the Commandos made their way down to the engineering labs to pick up their weapons.

The mission was simple: there was an outpost that needed to be destroyed, so that the SSR could install a listening post in the area. Allied forces were drawing in from the south and east, and would be drawing off Nazi forces from the nearest town to the outpost. Another 107th team would be assisting the Allied forces as a distraction measure, while the Commandos would strike from the north.

Bucky raised an eyebrow as he looked at Steve, blinking in slight puzzlement. “I'm not wielding another shield, Steve,” he answered. “Whatever you've heard around the SSR or even from Peggy, tossing that shield is not me. That's your specialty.”

To his relief, Steve didn't press, but merely quirked up the edges of his lips in laughter as he said, “Fine. I understand. But thank you, Bucky, for watching over Peggy and Howard.”

“I had nothing else to do, punk,” he stated, but accepted the compliment with a single nod of his head.

They entered the main lab and went over to retrieve the modified weapons. Bucky wandered over to where he saw his sniper rifle and the new magazines that had been created for it. There was little in the shape of his sniper rifle that had changed, and as he had requested, only the area where he loaded the magazine into the rifle had been modified. He picked up the first clip – four in total – and inspected it.

The workmanship was amazing: smoothed edges to make it easier for him to eject and load in each magazine. Reloading bullets within an empty one would be easier, and the spring mechanism looked to be reinforced—

“Whoa,” DumDum's exclamation brought him out of his careful inspection of what David had created. He looked up and over to see DumDum picking up the rifle, plucking something paper-like that had been slotted between the tip of the scope and barrel.

Bucky took the rifle from DumDum and slung it across his back, as DumDum opened the note, reading it out loud. “Please be careful and return safe.”

“Is that...?” Jones began, as the rest of the Commandos, including Steve, looked at him and DumDum.

“It's unsigned,” DumDum declared with a sly grin on his face. “Script is fancy, too.”

“Wow,” Morita exclaimed. “Maybe we should've stayed here for leave.”

Bucky rolled his eyes at his friends. He snatched the note from DumDum before the man could wave it or pass it around to the others to see. “Shut up,” he said, stuffing the note into a pocket, as he turned back around and put the magazines into the appropriate areas on the compartments within his waist belt.

“So, who's the girl?” Dernier pestered, as Bucky moved towards where the more conventional, but still modified weapons had been laid out.

“Your mother,” he retorted, glancing over towards the Frenchman, smirking as he said it.

A chorus of 'ooooo's and some laughter filled the air, and it had not been only the Commandos who had reacted to that retort. Steve was laughing hard enough to wipe the tears from his eyes, and more than a few of the engineers had joined in as well. Bucky couldn't help but grin as Dernier nodded in defeat, with the Frenchman knowing that he had walked right into that word trap.

As they collected the rest of their weapons, and began to walk out of the secondary exit-entrance area, Bucky couldn't help but take one last look around the main area. He caught Howard's nod at him, with the inventor still smiling and shaking his head ever so slightly at the antics of the Commandos. Standing behind Howard though, was David, and as Bucky caught the young man's eyes on him, he realized that the note had been written by him.

Though Bucky's nod was directed towards Howard in thanks, he made sure that his eyes were focused solely on David in silent acknowledgment of the note. He could never promise David to return safe, as he had already made a promise to another – to Steve: to be with him, until the end of the line.

 

~*~*~*~

 

FINI

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah... I've always wanted Bucky to say a 'your mom' joke. With the way I write him, especially with his WW2 personality, it seemed utterly appropriate that he'd say something like that to his fellow Commandos (and get away with it).
> 
> For those who have/are reading this within the series, this story takes place before the memories Furnace (печь) and Freezer (морозилка), from **A Million Shards Falling** and **The Paths We Take** , respectively. The new magazines/clips that Bucky uses are prototypes for what he ultimately uses in the memory: Seventeen (семнадцать), from **A Million Shards Falling**. For those who aren't, this can be considered a standalone story with a sequel to come, called: **The Lines Like Dust**.
> 
> Thank you for reading, commenting, and leaving kudos. I hope to see you in the next story. Cheers!


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